When in Oxford
by Lycaenida-Zephyr
Summary: Erik Lensherr is a German professor transferred to Oxford University as a guest lecturer. Offered a suite on University grounds, he finds himself sharing a wing with wealthy student Charles Xavier, whom he swiftly befriends and seduces. Both men hide secret talents, and upon realising they are of the same evolved species, are intimately drawn together. Cherik love/smut/yay!
1. When it Rains

**Part One**

**When it Rains **

**A/N **_I don't know what I'm writing. This has no plan, except for Cherik porn and some kind of AU storyline where Charles is a student at Oxford and Erik is a German professor. People who read my work (ILU guys!) know how much porn I put into things. So bumsex warnings etc. Haters gonna hate. Oh, and I'm from Northern Blighty, I have no idea what Oxford is like, let alone the Uni. So I made it up. _

_Zephyr. _

Life at Oxford could be a dreary, dismal thing. Charles adored England, truly, he did – there was no place quite like it, certainly, it was nothing like New York, even his grand Westchester home with all its dust gathering antiques and chiming grandfather clocks could not compare to the old-world elegance and charms of England.

Oh, to be sure, it was a country like any other, with its slums and depravities, but his part of England was Oxford, and Oxford was beautiful.

But sometimes, just sometimes, even the English countryside, the stunning architecture, the British girls with their glorious accents and gentle ways, sometimes even these things were not enough to detract from his loneliness.

His sister, Raven, waitressed at a local restaurant, but her job kept her busy most evenings, and so they saw each other with decreasing frequency these days. While he completed his final year at university, she tended tables and gossiped with her girlfriends – or so he assumed. He really didn't know what Raven got up to these days, but then, he most likely did not want to know.

He had completed his work for the night but it was still frightfully early for a young man to find himself sat, alone, with nothing to do. He had a bottle of expensive scotch on the coffee table and a pile of books next to it, but try as he might, he could not find it in him to drink or read.

He stood up and paced to the window, staring out at the night. His rooms, which were the grandest in the university, looked out onto the courtyard below.

It was raining. Gosh, when didn't it rain in England, in truth? He didn't mind, though, if anything he liked it, liked the sensation of rain on his upturned face as he walked and it drenched through his shirt, liked how the world smelled after a heavy rain, how the heady scent of the roses was amplified. He should walk now. There was nothing else to do.

Down below, he saw a taxi pull up and the driver and passenger side doors open. Two men emerged, the driver hurrying against the rain, the passenger leisurely standing to straighten his coat before joining the driver at the boot. From there, they produced two suitcases, the man carrying one in his left hand whilst his right kept a firm hold of his briefcase, the driver taking the other suitcase, quite obviously impatient and wishing to return to the safe dry interior of his car.

The man was having none of it.

He took his time, seeming to say something that Charles could not hear, before they both took the luggage to the entrance, disappearing from Charles' view.

The cabbie emerged and all but ran to his car, tires kicking up gravel as he sped away, perhaps to a warm bed and warmer wife after a hot dinner and soothing drink.

Charles turned away, the thought of a drink suddenly appealing, and poured himself an inch of scotch into a fine crystal glass.

Who the man was, he did not know. It was not the season for a new student, but the man was clearly here to stay for at least some amount of time, that much was obvious from his luggage.

Shrugging to himself, he finally felt the lure of a book to accompany his drink, and opened to the first page of his secret, guilty pleasure – a Catherine Cookson novel. This one was _The Tide of Life. _

"Does it always rain in England?" He asked, but in good-humour, for a little rain never hurt anybody.

"Most days. If it didn't, we would have cause for concern." His companion laughed. He had found that he laughed a lot, his lips cracking into smiles beneath his grey walrus moustache with a charming ease. A man who laughed was a man who lived, they said.

At first he had seemed incredibly austere, quite the British professor, but he had broke out into raucous laughter at seeing the damp tendrils of hair stuck to Erik's face as he dripped rainwater onto the tiled floor of Oxford University's foyer.

"I did not expect to arrive quite so late. I'm afraid I was delayed by the…bad weather." Erik apologised.

"Bad weather? This is good old English summer, my German friend!" Laughter once more. Erik found himself smiling. It was infectious. "Don't you fret, we have time enough tomorrow to handle the tedious introductions and tours tomorrow, for now the only place you need to know how to find is your room."

"It's very kind of you to house me – "

"Nonsense! We can't have you staying in a hotel. You're our guest! You'll find our facilities quite comfortable, but then I hear you German's are hard men, so perhaps the suite's wasted on you!" He chuckled to show he was joking, and Erik started to wonder whether he was a laughing-gas addict.

"Suite?"

"Oh yes, we have a fine selection of suite's here. The more privileged of our students will have their rich parent's fork out extra for the privacy and luxury, and who are we to deny it? It's money in our pockets. Though lately, they seem to realise that it somewhat alienates them for their peers, and we have a few empty."

"I see. Once, young people fought tooth and nail to prove themselves the richer man and yet now they seek to appear like the average Joe, even if they come from high society."

"Quite so. I suppose wealth is just another fashion."

"So who occupies the suite's at the moment?"

"Only a few select students. Your rooms are the only others in this wing aside for one student. His name is Charles Xavier."

"Charles Xavier? He sounds quite…"

"Go on, say it. He sounds like a fancy twit." He roared with laughter. "Xavier is a good lad. He's from New York, so he's a foreigner here, like you. You'll meet him soon enough, I'm sure. In fact you should meet him now! I'll have him be your tour guide tomorrow!"

"Professor, I'd much rather get tidied up first – "

"Nonsense! You're fine as you are. Come, come, pop your bags down, I'm sure the lads in here, he spends so much time on his own, you see, I fear he can be quite the recluse."

With a heavy knock at a door displaying a brass nameplate bearing the name _C F Xavier _the professor shouted in his customarily jolly voice.

"Xavier? Boy, are you in there?"

Erik swore he heard a muffled curse on the other side before it swung open just enough to reveal a startled young man with a startling pair of blue eyes.

He looked somewhat flushed, a delightful rosy hue to his cheeks complimenting his fair skin. He looked at the professor, and then looked _up_ at Erik. He was short, for a man, almost delicate looking. He estimated he could be no more than 5"7, and that was being generous. He stood barefoot too, wearing grey slacks and a slate grey shirt under a navy jumper, the top buttons undone casually to bare his slender throat and a hint of collarbone.

Erik caught himself staring at his throat, watching it contract as he swallowed.

"Ah, Charles, you are in. I thought as much. Here, say hello to Erik Lensherr, he's our guest professor. He's staying in the suite across from you, so I figured you could save me the ordeal of giving him to tour. I'll leave you two to get acquainted. Till tomorrow, _mein deutsch freund!_" He waved off, already leaving.

"Professor, wait – " Both men said, staring after the jolly mans retreating back before looking to each other with paralleled embarrassment.

Erik raked a gloved hand through his wet hair, pushing it off his face.

"My apologies for disturbing you, I had no idea he was going to do that." He smiled apologetically, finding himself magnetised by the boys azure eyes that stared at him with unnerving calm.

"Professor Fitzpatrick is unpredictable because he is a sloth of a man. A happy sloth, but a sloth no less." Charles finally said, remembering his manners and smiling.

He caught Erik off guard with his charming smile, the way his redder-than-sin lips curved almost playfully as he extended his hand in greeting.

Erik flapped around, wiping his wet leather gloves on his trousers before offering Charles his hand in return.

"As our lazy friend said, I am Charles Xavier."

"Erik Lensherr." Erik replied as they clasped hands. Charles peered over his shoulder.

"Do you need help with your bags?" He offered.

"Oh, them?" Erik looked back at the forgotten luggage. "I'm quite alright."

But Charles had already passed him and was waiting for Erik to open his door. Fumbling for the key the professor had given him, he unlocked the door to his home for the next six months, and the two men carried the luggage inside.

The door opened into the modest, cosy looking lounge area. A loveseat and arm chair upholstered in crushed velvet huddled about a coffee table that sat before a log-burning fire that Erik wanted to light to drive away the chill of a room that had obviously not been used in some time.

There was ample shelving for books and in the corner a small wooden table and accompanying chairs, for if he should choose to dine in his room alone or with a guest. The walls were hung with paintings of the Scottish highlands and a beach somewhere, the skies in every painting coloured grey-blue.

Charles followed him into the bedroom and dropped the case on the carpeted floor. The bed was a double one, thank goodness – Erik despised narrow beds. It was flanked by bedside tables complete with drawers. A Victorian era armour and drawers stood against one wall, and a door led into what he assumed was his bathroom.

"Your rooms are basically just like mine. They aren't bad at all, once you get used to them. The bathroom only has a bath, though, I'm afraid." Charles gave him a look that said 'I'm sorry' despite not holding any responsibility for denying Erik his shower. He tossed his head to the side casually, flicking his floppy brown hair from his eyes. He wore it like two short brown curtains, but it was becoming on him, soft looking, like the rest of him, like his sinfully red lips…

"I prefer showers, but I can cope, I'm sure." Erik forced himself to reply as he got distracted by the boys – _mans, _he must be in his twenties – finer features.

"Your accent, and what Fitzpatrick said– you're from Germany, right?" Charles asked casually, as if an impromptu conversation with a new and damp professor in his bedroom was entirely natural.

"Yes, Düsseldorf, to be precise." Erik replied, anxiously fingering the zip on his jacket. Charles noticed.

"I'm so very sorry, you must be dying to get dry. These fires are quite the pain to get going at first, I'll light one for you while you change." He decided with a brilliant smile, leaving Erik to stand in the bedroom alone and baffled.

Good lord. Were all the students like this?

Somehow he doubted that notion. When he accepted the offer to lecture at the university as a guest professor, he did not imagine this would be his greeting. A cruelly attractive young man with quite a fine ass, he could see, as Charles knelt on his hands and knees, prodding the kindling with an iron poker.

Shutting the door quickly, Erik lent back against it, closing his eyes. Behind his lids he could still see the shape of Charles' behind under the taut material of his trousers as he, in what seemed to be entirely genuine kindness, started a fire for a German stranger.

Stripping off his leather jacket and tossing it on the bed, he kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his leather belt and snapped it off, his damp trousers following suit. Rifling through his suitcase, he found a pair of dark jeans and pulled them on.

Finding a towel in the bathroom – once he'd found the damn light switch – he ruffled his hair to get rid of the worst of the rain, staring at himself in the cabinet mirror above the sink.

He was thirty now, and it showed in the fine lines etched on his still-attractive face. He wasn't a vain man, and frankly didn't care a fig for his appearance, but he could see the signs of age and it served as a reminder that he should _not _be staring at the asses of twenty year olds who were only trying to do him a kindness.

Emerging from the bedroom after telling himself off, he found Charles still on his knees but thank goodness, he was not in such a lewd position and he was not presented with his ass. Lewd position? The boy – _man_, god damn it – was simply going about a task, it was only lewd to him because he had a lewd mind.

But, it really was a fine –

"Bloody things give you quite the bother, I tell you." Charles said with a wide smile.

"Professor Fitzpatrick said you were from AmErika, but you sound very British to me." Erik said abruptly.

Charles laughed musically, carelessly. "I know, I get that all the time. My mother insisted on proper enunciation and had an English lady tutor me from childhood."

"I see. How old are you now, anyway?" Erik casually asked.

"Twenty-two." Charles grinned. "And you don't have to say it – I know I look about fifteen half the time!" He laughed, and Erik smiled while thinking _if you do then what does that say about me?_

"So this is your…"

"Final year." Charles nodded, sitting back on his heels, still kneeling by the fire while Erik stood staring down at him. "Look at me, down here. Honestly, I'm short enough as it is." He stood up, brushing his hands over his trousers at the thighs and, good lord, ass.

"Do you like it here?" Erik asked, deciding to sit on the arm chair. Charles fell into the loveseat casually, tossing his head again as his hair flopped into his eyes. The action was fascinating to Erik, who felt himself drowning.

Why was he still talking to him? He should say that he was tired, wanted to go to sleep, get the boy a safe distance away from his bed.

"It's none too bad." Said Charles, fingering his shirt collar absently. Once again, Erik's eyes were drawn to his throat. "So what are you a teaching?"

"Huh?" Erik looked up from his throat quickly. Charles' expression had changed, become somewhat suspicious. "I'm a physicist. Physics. I teach physics."

The expression left, and Charles leaned forward, interested. "I study science myself. Genealogy, mind you, but science. Anyway, I'm sure you want to get settled and don't need me prattling on any more – "

"No. You're not 'prattling', it's good of you to go out of your way. I'm grateful. You probably have plans – "

"Plans?" Charles laughed. "A book and another glass of scotch. In fact, do you like scotch? Of course you do! What man doesn't? Come, share a glass with me."

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

With a charming, warm smile, Charles waved his hand in dismissal. "You're in a strange building in a strange country, you could do with a drink, I'm sure."

**A/N **_Holy crap, I wrote a story, not just porn! If you like, please review for the next chapter! Ah, I understand the shock of leaving Germany for England, I did, years ago. I miss ol' Deutschland…_

_Zephyr._


	2. Differences

**Part Two**

**Differences**

**A/N **_Onwards! The chapter in which Erik and Charles become acquainted over scotch, and I drink red wine into the dawn. It's 3am. I have to sleep. Bah, the hell with it._

_(Also, I believe in part 1 there was a bit that said AmErika. That was a mistake – my autocorrect changed Erik to Eric due to something else I'd been writing, and I did a replace all, and so that happened)_

_Zephyr._

Charles screamed at himself internally as he practically dragged the poor professor into his room for the promised scotch, wondering if he should try to hide the book he was reading.

What was he doing, harassing the guy like this?

But he couldn't help himself. The second he saw his weary but handsome face with his hair poetically plastered against his forehead as he looked down at him with such intense green eyes…well, he'd just about lost all sense. He could curse, and kiss, Fitzpatrick for dragging the German to his door.

He followed him into his room mere feet across the hall from his, looking dashing as his hair dried to an auburn hued light brown. He had changed into jeans but still wore a white dress shirt, tie and black waistcoat. It looks ridiculously good on him, this mismatched ensemble, as he accepted the seat on the sofa next to Charles, who immediately shot back up to get another glass.

"It's not much, but its home while I'm in England." He said when he noticed Erik surveying the room.

"No, it's nice, you've made it cosy. I see you have a lot of books." He added, and when Charles looked he saw him holding his Catherin Cookson shame. It took all his will to not snatch it from his hands and throw it in the fire.

"Thousands more back home." He sat back down, passing a glass to Erik. "What shall we toast to, Erik? Ah, is it ok for me to call you that? You are a professor, after all, so maybe professor Lensherr – "

"Erik is fine, Charles." Erik smiled over his glass. "To England, our temporary home." He added, and they touched glasses, the crystal ringing lightly.

"To England." Charles echoed, swallowing a mouthful with his eyes still on Erik's face, the painfully handsome way in which he smiled at him.

"This is some damn fine scotch. What year is it?" Erik appreciated, eyeing the golden liquid in his glass. "Are students even allowed alcohol in their rooms?"

Charles blushed. Just a little.

"Technically no, but I have a steady supply and a generous heart, if you get me."

Erik laughed for the first time since they'd met, displaying both rows of perfect white teeth in a positively shark-like grin that crinkled at his eyes. Scotch aged well, as did Erik, it seemed. Charles was partial to an older man, had always been, in fact, since he was first attracted to an older boy in his preparatory school and realised he was gay.

He wondered if Erik was gay, and shook his head at himself. A man as masculine and attractive as him? No way. He probably had a wife at home in Germany.

His eyes darted to the mans left hand, the one resting on his thigh not holding the glass. He had taken his gloves off and wore no ring. So, no wife, but maybe a girlfriend?

"So what made you come to Oxford? Have you left family behind?" He asked carelessly as if just making conversation, taking another drink quickly.

Erik had his elbow on the back on the sofa, perched in a way that his hand holding the glass was right by his lips. He looked effortlessly chic.

"Family? No. I have no family." The way he said it, with a secret sadness, touched Charles' heart. He had a forlorn look to him, as though he was recalling sour memories, his eyes darkening as he stared at the fire across from them, the flames playing light and shadow across his angular face.

And then Charles' brain made connections.

Erik was around thirty. It was the sixties. He would have been a child in the war.

He had probably lost his family then. And Charles had just reminded him.

Oh God, he was a terrible person.

"It's ok, Charles." Erik said softly, startling him from his thoughts. He looked up at him and saw that the older man was giving him a gentle smile. "I know what you're thinking, and you're right, I'm Jewish. I lost my family in the war. Many people lost their families; I'm not the only one."

"I'm sorry." Charles said murmured, his lips brushing against the glass still held to his lips. He put it down. "I shouldn't have – "

"Don't. You weren't to know. The past is past." Erik dismissed, and the silence enveloped them as thick as winter snow.

After long moments, Erik too put his glass down and set about unbuttoning his cuff. Charles watched curiously as he rolled his sleeve up. Without a word, Erik exposed the pale underside of his muscular forearm, and Charles' breath hitched in his throat.

The numbers etched in black on his skin were brutally stark and had not been faded by the years. Above one was a small scar.

"I tried to cut it out, once." Erik said, touching the scar. "I thought if I got rid of it, it wouldn't be real. But then I'd just have the scar to remind me it had been there, and to remind me that I was ashamed of it. So now, I am not ashamed. It serves as a reminder of who I am, and what happened to me."

Charles' hand moved of its own accord. Without thought, he touched Erik. He placed his hand on his arm, fingers curling around to hold him as his thumb brushed the tattoo. He stared at it, long and hard, and was suddenly ashamed of his own sheltered, privileged life safe in his mansion in New York while Erik had been numbered like a slave and suffered horrors he could not imagine.

He looked up and saw Erik was watching him, his eyes glowing.

He didn't know what he was doing, or why. Why was he letting this boy he'd met only an hour ago see his number? What on earth had possessed him to do something like that?

His gentle smile and his honest blue eyes.

Something like that.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." Charles apologised, moving his hand. It slid against his skin, warm and soft, his heat lingering. It felt like he was still holding his arm.

Erik shook his head, hair tumbling across his brow.

"No, I shouldn't have shown you it. I don't know why I did."

"I'm glad you did." Replied Charles, and he seemed to blush. "I mean, it's very – poignant, you know? Grounding." He exhaled a long breath.

"I've made this awkward. I should go." Erik stood suddenly, raking his hand through his hair.

"Don't!" Charles exclaimed, and Erik watched as he clamped his lips together and this time truly did blush. Lord, could he be any more of a pretty boy? The way he blushed, his silky looking hair, his soft hands.

Oh Jesus, Erik was completely taken by him. In the first hour he'd been in the university he was expected to work and live in for the next half a year, he'd met and become hopelessly attracted to a student far too young for him, a student he could well be teaching, a student who lived across the hall from him and who he would probably see every single day.

But then, the pretty student had been the one to touch him, and invite him into his room for scotch, and tell him not to leave.

_No. Stop it, Erik,_ he thought. _He's just some innocent student trying to be kind to a stranger, and you went and showed him your number and made him uncomfortable._

Christ, it still made _him _uncomfortable to look at sometimes, let alone some stranger, some obviously rich stranger, who would have been, what, a _baby_ in the war, probably in some protected mansion with a hoard of servants at his every cry.

"We did have servants, but I'm not some spoilt – "

"How did you know what I was thinking?" Erik interrupted, confused and shocked.

Charles visibly paled.

He pushed his hair from his face and looked away. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to – well, oh, Christ, I should just go. This is my room. Ok. This is my room, you should go – "

"How did you know what I was thinking? I didn't say anything. I was _thinking_." Erik persisted, sitting down and grabbing Charles' wrist.

_Because I can read your mind. _

He heard it, clear as if he had said it right into his ear, except Charles kept his lips closed and was looking right at him the whole time. It was inside his head. _Inside his head._

"Oh mein Gott." Erik breathed, forgetting English momentarily. "You're, you can – you're telepathic?" His face split into another shark grin and he laughed, truly laughed this time, throwing his head back and letting go of Charles' wrist. The boy stared at him in confusion, clearly not expecting the reaction he got.

"You're not freaking out. You aren't scared?" Charles asked after Erik had calmed down.

The older man grinned and shook his head, a burst of laughter escaping him. He had the most startlingly wide grin Charles had ever seen – it was shark-like, consuming half his face, and Charles had no doubt he could be quite the predator with a face like that.

"Not at all. You're a mutant, like me."

At this, Charles took his turn to laugh, almost in relief. "Like you? Wait, you're telling me that you have a mutation?" Erik nodded. "Well what is it? Tell me!"

"Tell you? I'll show you." Erik deigned. He looked about the room and located a silver Mont Blanc pen on the coffee table. He raised his hand and the pen followed, hovering in the air and gliding over into his hand. Charles' face lit up.

"You're telekinetic?" He asked breathlessly.

"Not quite. I can manipulate metal. Any metal, actually." He put the pen down again. "So, you're a mutant, and I'm a mutant. We met what seems like moments ago, and now we both know each others secret."

"Bizarre, isn't it? I was just thinking that I feel awful for bombarding you like this, practically forcing booze down your throat when we've only just met, but actually I'm rather glad for it. Meeting you, that is."

Erik laughed again. "Forcing booze down my throat is one of the kinder things I've been made to do." Realising how awful that sounded, he quickly continued. "When I accepted this position, I thought, well, I don't know what I thought, but to meet another person like me? I thought I was alone."

_You're not alone, Erik. _He heard crystal clear in his mind, and it made him smile. He felt delirious, from more than booze.

"Do you know any others? Like us?"

"My sister."

"Is it genetic? Our mutations, are they inherited?"

"No, not that I know of. I've based my thesis on mutation, my entire life is consumed by the study of mutations in our genetics in truth, but my sister is actually…adopted, I guess, so we aren't blood related."

"What can she do?"

"A wonderful thing."

He left Charles reluctantly later that night after another glass of scotch and much showing-off of their abilities. He felt drunk, but not on the alcohol, on momentous joy. He decided, as he lay there in his strange new bed listening to the rain pattering against the windows, that fate had brought them together.

It was just too astonishing. To meet him so suddenly, to be drawn to him like that, to so easily and quickly form some kind of a connection, a connection that started when he for some unknown and utterly crazy reason decided to show him his number and ended in them revealing their secrets, it was just…

Madness. Absolute madness.

Erik realised he was smiling as he stared up at the ceiling, buck-naked in bed for he always slept nude, and he was smiling because of one certain Charles Xavier. Someone who he had not even known existed a few hours ago had brought him joy unlike he had known for, well, simply for years. Since before. Before the war.

To think he was like him. Mutated. Different.

Beautiful.

He was, he really was beautiful. He closed his eyes and saw instead those brilliant blues looking at him from his perfectly pale face. His lips, like blood on snow, the way he blushed to compliment the red of his lips…

Erik felt himself harden under the duvet. He groaned, cursing himself, and proceeded to think instead of his throat, his damn throat and collarbone. He wanted to kiss that throat, those lips, wanted to run his fingers through his silky hair.

Instead, he satisfied himself by using his fingers on himself, his hand disappearing under the covers to stroke himself to the image of Charles, just Charles, his face and neck and laugh and –

_Are you sleeping?_

"Holy fuck!" Erik shouted, jerking upright. He looked around in panic.

_Did I frighten you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. _Charles apologised in his head.

In his fucking _head. _Charles was in his head while he was masturbating. And, God help him, it made him harder.

_If I think, can you hear me? _He asked mentally.

…_Yes. _Came Charles' reluctant reply.

_Did you...how much did you hear? _He forced himself to ask.

_Enough. _

**A/N **_AHAHA I am so evil. Cliff-hangers! When Erik was looking for something metal to manipulate, I really wanted to write him undoing Charles' belt and ravishing him. It's so hard to restrain myself. So I had him jerk off instead. *fapfapfap*_

_Zephyr._


	3. Our Kind

**Part Three**

**Our Kind**

Charles retreated from his mind swiftly. He didn't know what had possessed him. He only meant to check if he was still awake, and why he even wanted to do that, he didn't know. But then he had seen himself in his mind, so very clearly, and he had felt…

Well, he had felt Erik's hand as if it were on him.

That was one of the effects of being in someone's mind. He felt what they felt. Emotions and sensations alike. In this case, he felt Erik's intense arousal and pleasure. He felt it as his own, and now he had quite the erection as he fretted in his bed, tossing from side to side, mortified at what he had done, and knowing that Erik must be equally, if not more so horrified.

The man probably hated him. He had to. He had just invaded his mind! Something he _never _did! But he had, and he had done it at the worst possible time, but still, he did not regret it.

Erik was attracted to him.

It made him smile despite himself. Erik had most definitely been thinking about him while he masturbated.

The knock was soft but hurried, and he knew who it was.

Wrapping his dressing gown around himself, he rushed to the door, hesitating.

"I can hear you." He heard Erik say quietly. After another moment, he opened the door. Erik stood there, shirtless, in a pair of pyjama bottoms.

His chest. Sweet, merciful Jesus, his chest was magnificent. So defined, so hard and –

It wasn't the only hard thing. Charles still had an erection, and, from the looks of it, so did Erik.

"I, um, I'm sorry about – " Erik pushed him inside and closed the door behind him.

"Don't want people hearing." He apologised.

"We're the only ones in this wing." Charles said automatically. Erik grinned at him.

"Are we? Good." And with that, he seized his face between his hands and kissed him. Kissed him with such fervent ardour it took his breath away and he was kissing back just as passionately, hands on his hard chest, touching him, tasting him, feeling him.

And oh, but he was a wonderful kisser, somehow equally gentle while being so savage in his lust, his lips applying the pressure just so, one hand sliding into his hair and the other gripping the back of his neck, and Jesus Christ, Charles caught himself moaning with abandon.

He gripped onto Erik's biceps and pushed him, forcing him off, trying to move away but caught by Erik's firm hand on his neck.

"No, we can't – I don't know you, and this is just, just mad!" He gasped as Erik gazed at him with that same intensity that made a chill shiver down his spine. That look. That look was the look of a predator eyeing its prey. Charles suddenly felt himself drop a few links lower on the food chain in the presence of Erik.

"I agree that it is, but frankly I am passed caring. You should have thought about that when you sneaked into my mind without my permission." He kept Charles in place with his strong hands, so close he could feel his breath. "You can't just do that to someone, Charles. Our thoughts are private. What happens in my head is for me, and only me, unless I should put voice to it."

"I know, and I am sorry, truly I am, I only meant to see if you were still awake, I didn't think you would be – " and here he stopped, unable to finish the sentence, but his blush did it for him. Erik smirked, not his usual wide, open grin, but a fiendish twitch of his lips at a crooked angle.

"That I would be touching myself while thinking of you?" He finished for the younger man, who turned positively puce.

"Yes, uhm, that." Charles muttered, eyes refusing to look at Erik.

"I should be the embarrassed one." Said Erik. "You can hear what I think, but when you're inside my mind, what else can you do?"

"I can, well, I can feel what you feel."

"Emotionally?"

"…and physically." Charles swallowed, turning from Erik, who let him go this time.

Staring at the back of Charles' head, his hair misplaced from his roaming hands, Erik chuckled.

"So you felt it, too. Well. Your mutation is certainly interesting."

Charles gasped when he felt Erik pressed up behind him, one muscled arm wrapping about his chest and sealing his arm against his side, the hand gripping his chin to turn his face to look over his shoulder, where Erik stared down at him with such obvious hunger it both frightened and aroused him.

His free hand slid between the folds of Charles' robe, brushing against the hardness in his pyjamas. It took a heck of a lot of effort not to gasp or moan again.

"Did you feel it like this?" Erik murmured into his ear, breath hot and damp against his skin, lips brushing against the shell purposefully. He used two fingers to frame the outline of his erection through the fabric of his pants. "Like I was touching you, too?"

"Erik. Erik, please stop." Charles pleaded breathily. "Don't do this."

"Don't do what?" Erik replied innocently, his hand slipping into his waistband, skin and skin connecting with a crackle of electric heat as he wrapped his hand about him.

This time, Charles _did _moan. He could feel Erik's body pressed into him, every hard plane of his hot body, and he could feel his arousal, too, pressed against his ass like it belonged there.

Abruptly, Erik spun him around and forced him back against the door, his hand still wrapped around him as the other pushed his pants down for better access.

Slowly, lightly, with an infuriatingly teasing rhythm, he stroked his cock while burying his head into his shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply, before his lips finally, _finally_, tasted his neck, the sweet soft skin that had been teasing him all night. He trailed kisses up to his ear, lingering there.

"If you go into my mind again, Charles, I won't be so kind to you. Understand?" He warned in a tone that sent shivers through Charles for all the wrong reasons. Menacing. That's all he could think about it. Truly, awfully menacing.

"I promise, I won't – _aah._" He choked when Erik squeezed him harder, tugging and stroking and oh, God, it felt so good.

And in an instant, it was gone. Erik released him.

"What you did in unacceptable." He said before seizing his lips once more, slipping his tongue into his surprised mouth and savouring his taste before letting go and pushing him out of the way, leaving his room, leaving him alone, and returning to his own.

Charles slid down against the closed door, shutting his eyes tightly, his breath coming in ragged bursts and for some inexplicable reason, tears forming behind his lids. He held his head in his hands, willing himself to calm down.

Erik had all but violated him. Not, by any means, truly against his will, but a purposeful show of dominance, of power, to put him in his place when he had in truth violated his privacy by sneaking into his mind. Something, he understood, that he should _never _have done.

His cock throbbed in response to thoughts of Erik. Of how good he had felt on him, his lips, his hands, his body…his voice so close in his ear, his touch so intimate. He was hopelessly aroused, and that seemed to be Erik's punishment, winding him up to fever pitch and leaving him alone.

What would he have done if he had stayed? Would he have willing surrendered himself to a man who was almost a stranger? In fairness, that is what young people were supposed to do, any way – the endless one night stands and casual affairs. But Charles was different. He didn't like that, he didn't _want_ it. But he wanted Erik. He wanted the dominant German man to touch him again, touch him more, everywhere!

Charles picked himself up, brushed the tears from his eyes, and stumbled back into bed, to access his own fresh memories and play them through his head over and over, _Erik_ touching him, _Erik_ kissing him, _Erik_ holding him, while he brought himself to climax.

The next morning Charles was straightening out his bed when there was a knock at his door. Half hoping it was, half praying it wasn't a certain dashing German, he answer it almost meekly.

There he stood, in an exquisitely tailored slate grey suit and dark bottle green shirt that brought out his eyes, his hair arranged in a neat fashion, smiling that charming smile.

"I believe Fitzpatrick decided that you would be giving me my tour. Are you ready?" He asked with so casual an air Charles wondered if he had dreamed the whole fiasco last night with his own sordid mind. Sordid mind? Compared to some, Charles was as innocent as a cherub.

"Yes, just let me grab my jacket." He picked it up from the back of the chair and shrugged it on. He himself wore a dove grey suit, white shirt and blue tie fastened with a monogrammed tie pin.

As they meandered about the expanse of Oxford University, Erik started up casual talk of this and that, Charles chattering along, explaining the history of this hall or who that painting was of or what subject was taught in what room. The unease he had initially felt melted away, and he found that they were talking amiably and laughing often, quite content in one another's company.

Out on the grounds, they walked in the fresh air, the rain having stopped and the sun making a rare appearance. Students milled about, alone or in groups, going to early morning lessons or to the cafeteria for breakfast.

"Are you hungry? We should get breakfast. I wouldn't suggest the cafeteria, though, the food isn't particularly palatable and hoards of students will be in there."

"Do you have a quieter place in mind?" Erik asked with a glint in his eyes, and Charles realised what he had said, suggesting that they be alone together.

"There's a café not far from here. My sister works there." At this, Erik's eyes lit up.

"Your sister? The one like us?"

"I only have one sister, my friend." Charles laughed. "And yes, it's the one who is like us."

As they walked in the opposite direction to the throngs of students making their way from the residential halls to the cafeteria, Charles noticed how almost every young woman would stop and stare at Erik. Whether a quick glance or a blatant longing gaze, he certainly acquired a great deal of attention from the opposite sex.

It made him at once jealous and smug.

"Charles!" He heard called from behind him. He turned to see a young red-haired man running towards them breathlessly, a silly grin on his face.

"Cassidy, good to see you!" Charles greeted when he had caught up to them.

"Yo, Charlie boy. How's things?" Sean Cassidy looked from Charles to Erik, as if just noticing his presence.

"Quite fine, Sean. This is Professor Erik Lensherr. He arrived last night and will be a guest lecturer for the next six months. Eri – Professor, this is Sean Cassidy, a friend of mine."

"Another Oxfordian, I feel well and truly out-numbered." Erik greeted, holding his hand out. Sean took it warily, as if frightened of the big man.

"Actually, my friend, you have made a grave error. You see, _Oxfordians _are notpeople who attend Oxford University, no, we are known as _Oxonians. _An _Oxfordian_ is one who holds the ever more popular belief that the Earl of Oxford was in fact the mind behind Shakespeare's works, not William Shakespeare himself, whom they view as a front, a ruse as it were." Charles explained, his eyes never letting go of Erik's as he heatedly, passionately, pointed out his mistake and made him feel impeccably simple-minded. But Charles had that effect on people.

"So in calling us Oxfordians," he continued, "you have most likely deeply insulted my dear friend here who is quite the Shakespeare fan, as he is studying English Literature with his keen interest lying in his works. William Shakespeare's, that is, not the Earl of Oxford's."

Sean looked apologetically at Erik who stared at Charles, impressed.

"You know an awful lot about an awful lot, don't you, Xavier?" He commented. Charles shrugged.

"You kidding? Charles knows everything. Makes the rest of us look like imbeciles." Sean joked, slapping Charles on the back. "Where you off to?"

"Out for breakfast."

"To Ravens?" Sean assumed.

"To Ravens." Charles agreed.

"Say hi to her for me. Your sister's hella hot."

Erik was fascinated with watching Charles' face as he spoke. And he talked a lot, animatedly, as they strolled through Oxford. He had half expected him to slam the door in his face or hit him after he had been brazen enough to sexually assault him, but instead they were walking to a café to meet his sister, another mutant, and at that Erik could hardly contain his excitement.

His mind kept flitting back to the night before. It seemed impossible that they had only met yesterday, and in that time Erik had managed to both kiss and threaten the young man, but here they were as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Though when he had left Charles in his room and returned to his own, he had struggled to keep himself from leaving then and there. How could he have done that to the poor boy, so near a stranger, but one he felt so inexplicably drawn to he could barely stop himself?

He was, however, thankful he did stop. He hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted to push him to the floor and fuck him with abandon, the hell with morals and boundaries. Yet somehow he had stopped, leaving Charles for his own lonely bed, and he was grateful that he had.

He had expected Charles to hate him, to be disgusted with him. There was no doubt in his mind that the young student was equally attracted to him – he had responded to his touches in all the right ways after all – but even he was shocked at his lack of self control. Yes, he had been angry that Charles would enter his mind like that, and he had only meant to scare the boy a little, but not like that. He had meant to tell him to never do it again, to stay out of his mind, and then leave him and go to sleep.

But seeing him, flustered and alone, had proven to be too much.

"…but I always thought, there has to be more out there." Charles' voice returned to him, and Erik realised he had been so consumed in watching his face and thinking of last night that he had ceased listening to a single thing Charles had said.

"Forgive me, Charles, I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that?" He prompted. Charles laughed.

"Oh, nothing, I do tend to talk an awful lot once I get going. I was just saying that the chances of us both being as we are and meeting like this are so slim."

"As we are?" Erik echoed, thinking that by that he meant _homosexual._

"Yes, you know, _mutants._" Charles said under his breath. "I don't know how many of us there are, but I know a few – "

"Wait, you know more than your sister and I?"

"Yes, in fact, that young man before, Sean, is like us. And I have a few friends about the University with some rather unique abilities."

Erik beamed a brilliant smile. "In all my years I've never met another person like me, and you're telling me that they've all been studying at Oxford University this whole time?"

"It would seem so!" Charles laughed. "I'll introduce you to them. There's Alex, Darwin, Angel, and our youngest lecturer, Hank. If you think I know a lot, wait until you meet him. He graduated from Harvard at fifteen."

"Really? Is his mutation that he's some kind of genius?" Erik asked, and Charles seemed to want to hush him from saying the word 'mutation' so loudly.

"That, and something else." Charles said in a quieter voice as though to convince Erik to do the same. "Actually, I met a delightful young girl recently with this great shock of pure white hair and skin like cocoa. She was like us, I could tell. I don't know what she could do, but I could sense that she was different. And her friend, this shy little thing way beyond her years, she was another telepath!"

"You can sense others?"

"If they are close enough." Charles nodded. "I think its part of my ability, to sense our kind."

"Our kind…" Erik murmured. "We are another species, aren't we?"

"I don't know, actually. I spend most of my time thinking about that. Are we, aren't we…are we just humans with a difference, or is our difference so great that we in fact another species, not at all homo sapien?" Charles mused. "Whatever we are, there are more of us out there then I could possibly fathom. If we deal in ratios and compare our kind versus humans in the university, though we are heavily out numbered, we aren't so few as you would think. And you, my friend, are another number to our side."

"Our side? 'Our kind versus humans'? So you _do _think that we are opposing sides?"

"Opposing sides? No, of course not, I see no reason why we should not live in peace with humans. From what I understand we are relatively new as a species, but why should we be feared?"

"Because you can get inside peoples minds, the one place always thought to be private, and I can deflect a bullet." Erik said with simplicity. "Charles, we are too powerful for humans not to fear us. What of your sister? What can she do? You never told me."

Charles looked thoughtfully at Erik for a moment, his expression unreadable. "She can show you, if she likes."

"You said you can sense our kind, but you didn't sense me?" Erik said pointedly as they stopped in front of a quaint looking café. Charles frowned.

"I think I did, but didn't pay it any mind. I was too distracted."

"Distracted?"

"You showed up quite suddenly."

They pushed through the door, a bell tinkering to announce their arrival, and behind a low counter displaying pastries a pretty blonde girl looked up and flashed a happy smile. She finished counting change for a customer as Erik and Charles walked towards her before she vaulted over the counter with swift ease and pulled Charles into a bone-crushing hug.

"Careful, Raven, you're made of sturdier stuff than I." Charles chuckled. "And you know you shouldn't be doing that at work!"

"Doing what?" She asked, finally letting him go and eyeing Erik in a rather rapacious manner. "Who's he?"

"Raven, this is Professor Erik Lensherr, Erik this is my little sister, Raven."

"Pleasure to meet you, Raven." Erik greeted, lifting her small hand to his lips and placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles. As he did, he watched as she visibly softened and a nervous smile fluttered at her glossy lips.

"Uh, you too." She replied. "Older men sure get their chivalry, huh?"

"Don't mind her, she's still a kid." Charles apologised to Erik.

"I'm sure it was meant as a compliment." Erik shook his head, smiling.

"It was!" Raven agreed in a fluster. "I was being _nice _Charles, you could try it too."

"I could – gosh, Raven, you could extend some of your courtesies my way once in a while."

Erik watched the exchange between brother and sister with fondness, but couldn't help but wonder what Raven's mutation was. She looked entirely normal, but then, so did he and Charles.

"So, what can I get ya?" She asked, returning to her place behind the counter and leaning across it, staring at Erik the whole time.

"Erik, what would you like? I'm not sure what you Germans eat for breakfast, but the menu is on that board over there."

"German? You're from Germany? I thought you sounded funny." Raven picked up. Charles shot her a warning glance. She held her hands up. "Just saying."

"Yes, I am, and our food is not so different. I'll have whatever you're having." Erik decided.

Charles clapped his hands together. "Eggs and muffins it is, then, with a pot of tea. Chop chop, Raven."

The girl stuck her tongue out at her brother but happily accepted a five pound note from him – a good deal more than a simple breakfast cost, and a tip that really, as a sort-of Xavier, she did not need.

The men sat at a table for two by the window, watching as people passed on their way to work. Erik studied Charles as he was distracted by the scene outside, wondering what he was thinking, wondering what it would be like to be like him and _know _what other people were thinking. Absently, he found himself making a silver salt-shaker slide back and forth across the table. Charles noticed and snatched it away.

"Not the place, Erik." He warned. Erik smiled in response.

"But where is our place, Charles?"

Saving Charles from answering, Raven appeared at their side with a heavily loaded try, placing it carefully on the table. She took off two plates and placed one before either man, and then unloaded the tea pot, cups and saucers.

"I saw what you did." Raven whispered to Erik with a sly smile. "That's so cool."

"Thank you, but I'm quite interested in what you can do." Erik replied, while Charles glared at his sister openly. He didn't know if Erik was just naturally charming, but it seemed to him that he was flirting with his kid sister, and he didn't like it.

"I'll show you! Later, I mean, not here. Charles, can we go out tonight? We can go with Erik, right? To the pub?"

Erik and Raven both turned pleading eyes to Charles, who sighed and nodded. "Why not."

With a happy squeal, Raven left with the empty tray.

"If that's alright with you, that is. I mean, would you like to go the pub with us, tonight?" Charles asked.

"It's a date." Erik grinned.

**A/N **_I wanted to wait, to write them falling for each other and making eyes across a packed classroom, but then smut happened. I am an awful homo sapien. I have no self control. That's my power – I do what I want. _

_Zephyr. _


	4. Checkmate

**Part Four**

**Checkmate **

Erik did not begin teaching until the next afternoon, and so the rest of his day was spent with Professor Fitzpatrick introducing him to the other lecturers, including the one Charles had told him about: Hank McCoy, genius mutant. He was introduced to him in his laboratory where he was working on God only knew what, and was too busy to talk in length with Erik, who was whisked away to be shown the room he would be using.

Seeing the large lecture hall for the first time was quite overwhelming, in an odd sort of way. He stood before his podium, black boards behind him, and Fitzpatrick took a seat in the far back row, calling to Erik to try out the acoustics. Finding them excellent, Erik smiled, the jolly professor showing him the small but quaint office attached that was to be his office.

Running his hands over the sleek wood of the desk, he admired the room in all its British charm, potted plants and all. He looked at a little card sticking out of a pot containing a money tree.

_Welcome to Oxford, Professor Lensherr. I'll be in the front row. – CFX. _

_Charles_, he thought fondly. How he had managed to both buy the plant and get it in here already, he had no idea.

"CFX? Xavier, I imagine! Must have taken a shine to you. Charming chap, you would do good to have him in your class." Fitzpatrick boomed in his loud voice, looking over Erik's shoulder as he held the card in his fingers. He slipped it into his breast pocket, for safe keeping, wondering if he should return the favour, imagining giving Charles a large bouquet, then deciding that might be too condescending to a fellow male. Flowers were for women. Though the thought of red roses trailed his thoughts to Charles' lips.

Erik found that he liked Oxford very much; it was a lovely, peaceful place. The students were courteous enough, some perhaps a little wary of the tall imposing German. He ran across the redhead boy again in the halls as Fitzpatrick showed him around, laughing with two other young men, one a poster-boy Aryan, the other a sinewy young man with ebony skin. Sean waved to him, and Erik noticed the size of his pupils against his pale, freckled face. The boy was high. Erik allowed himself a quiet laugh as he passed.

He wondered if the two boys he had been with were other mutants, the ones Charles had been talking about. He realised that with every person he passed he was staring at them, wondering if they too were mutants. He thought that if he stretched out his arms and let his hands touch every person walking by him, he would come into contact with at least one other mutant, and it made him wonder what kind of abilities they had, what their _powers _were.

The true extent of mutation in the world's populace was unknown. The types of mutation also remained a mystery. But there were others like him, and that's what mattered. He was not alone. Charles had told him that.

If Charles could get inside peoples heads, and he could manipulate anything made of or containing metal, then what was the extent of powers in their kind? Surely, some unimaginable, incredible things could be done by their people, by _his _people. He wanted to know. He wanted to find others and know what they could do, find the other mutants who thought they were alone and tell them that no, they were not, they were part of something much bigger than they could ever understand.

They were the next stage in evolution.

Of that, Erik was certain. They were the better men.

After introductions, Erik made a presentation to the faculty about his plans, teaching them what he would be teaching the students, when why and how, and received nothing but approval. It was easy enough, but he was distracted by thoughts of the others, and more prominently, thoughts of a certain brunette.

_It's a date, _he had said to Charles, who had not countered him. He couldn't truly consider it a date, considering the girl, Raven, would be with them, and in truth he had not been the one to invite Charles out, or indeed Charles been the one to invite him out. It had been Raven, the mysterious mutant he was itching to know.

But a date he thought of it as more and more as the day raced by in a flurry of presentations and paperwork, until it was four in the afternoon and he was in his room looking at his assortment of clothes hanging in the wardrobe.

He had turned on the wireless radio he'd found in the bottom of the wardrobe and The Beatles were doing a good job of picking him up for the evening. Fingering the dial to try and find a decent station had been a nightmare – he had no idea how to tune into British radio stations and had almost gone across the hall to see if Charles was in and could help him before The Supremes had greeted his ears.

Now, he hummed along to the music while dressing, pulling a black turtle-neck jumper over his head to go with the slacks he was wearing. As he neatened his hair, there was a knock at his door.

_Charles_. He thought with a smile.

Sure enough, the petite brunette stood at his door when he answered, still in the suit he had been wearing earlier.

"You dress like quite the gentleman, for a student. Don't you ever dress down?" Erik asked by way of greeting.

"I'm fond of my suits." Charles responded. "You look markedly different from your professor you."

Erik looked down at himself. "I suppose I do. Didn't you say we were just going to the pub?"

"Indeed, but your turtle-neck is my cuffs and collar. Are we going to stand here and argue all evening, or would you like a glass of that scotch you so enjoyed while we wait for Raven to finish work?"

"I'll take the scotch."

xxx

They settled onto Charles' sofa before the fading embers of the perpetual fire.

"I'm afraid I'm quite the reptile: I need my heat."

"It's warm, there's nothing to complain about."

In the room that had born witness to last nights events, Charles was struck by how easy Erik was to get along with, how quickly they had fallen into conversation today like old friends, as though nothing had happened the night before. As though Charles had not caught Erik masturbating to thoughts of him, and then been quite literally attacked by the man.

But it had happened. Erik had kissed him, touched him, done things to him that Charles had not done with another man for quite some time, since a tryst with a former student who had since graduated and moved on.

_How easy_, he thought, _it would be if I were attracted to girls. _

He thought also of how Erik had seemed to flirt with Raven, and it angered him – for one she was half his age, and for two, well, he didn't want him flirting with anyone else, let alone a girl. Did Erik like girls? Was he bisexual? He himself was most definitely gay. He'd never had a single fanciful thought about a female in his whole life. But he had thoughts plenty about the attractive German as he gratefully accepted his glass and they toasted wordlessly.

"Charles," Erik began, hesitating. "What I did last night – "

"Was entirely my own fault." Charles finished. "I should not have intruded on your thoughts."

"I should not have intruded on your body." Erik countered. "I did a terrible thing. Will you forgive me?" His sincerity, and guilt, was palpable.

"Only if you forgive me." Charles smiled, not voicing his thoughts that, in fact, there was nothing to forgive but for leaving him in so wound-up a state that he had to finish himself off.

"So we are forgiven?"

"Perhaps if you join me in a game of chess?" Charles invited, and Erik gave him that shark-grin again, and it stopped his heart.

"Are you sure? I'm quite the player."

"Bring it on, my friend, bring it on."

xxx

The student/teacher relationship that Erik adhered to had long since been forgotten with Charles. In fact, it had never existed, from the moment he had set eyes upon the pretty youth. He was certain that teachers did not drink scotch with their students, nor talk like old friends over a chess board that held more whites than blacks.

Damn it, he had taken black.

"I tell you, when I leave her apartment I stink of the stuff. Those joss sticks are awful things. But it's the 'in' thing, isn't it? Raven is very much the fashion conscious teenager."

"She wants to fit in." Erik shrugged. "Most young people do."

"You don't know the half of it. She agreed to show you her mutation, so I suppose it's alright if I say this – hers is a very visible difference."

"Visible? She looked entirely normal to me."

"She hides it. She's very good at that." Charles muttered, moving his Queen. "Check."

"Shit." Erik cursed, and Charles laughed. "What?"

"Nothing at all. Come on, make your move. If you think you can beat me, still."

Erik studied the board intently, before taking Charles' Queen with his bishop, releasing him from his hold. Momentarily, for Charles proceeded to take his King, smugly announcing,

"Checkmate."

Erik cursed again, and their eyes met over the board. "You're a sly man, Xavier."

"You accuse me, but you are not so innocent of deviance yourself, Lensherr." He said, full of implication. They looked at one another for what seemed like an eternity, sat across from one another at Charles' small, round dining table. A remarkably emptier-than-he-recalled scotch bottle sat beside Charles, their glasses emptied once more.

"I want to kiss you again." Erik said in a low voice, reaching out to touch Charles' cheek with his knuckles. "But I want your permission this time."

Charles swallowed, eyes held by Erik's like he was a magnet, and he couldn't look away from the handsome man sat before him. His light, gentle touch on his cheek thrummed through his body. He couldn't speak, so instead, he nodded.

Erik stood and held his hand out to Charles. He took it, and allowed himself to be assisted up. The second he was on his feet, Erik pulled him against his own body gently and tilted his head up, his eyes ablaze with desire, but his touch so tender, so soft, it was entirely different to the night before.

"You have such beautiful eyes." Erik murmured, pushing a lock of hair from Charles' face, his fingers ghosting over his skin, down his cheek and to his jaw where they rested. He closed the space between them, touching his lips to Charles' with a cautious delicacy.

The feathery light kiss awakened every nerve in his body, and Charles' body moved of its own will, his arms rising to wrap around the taller mans neck and press himself closer, silently begging for more.

Erik held him about his waist, hand resting on his slender hip, the other tangling in his hair once more as he parted his lips and urged Charles to do the same. The younger man complied, and Erik slid his tongue into his warm, wet mouth, tasting his sweetness mingled with the whiskey.

The kiss lasted and lasted until eventually they were forced to break apart, breathing heavily, Erik's lips pressing to Charles' forehead tenderly as both arms wrapped about his slim body and held him close.

"This is against regulations." Erik breathed, and Charles laughed softly.

"It most certainly is, Professor." He said before turning his face upwards and kissing him. "Does that bother you?"

"That I'm kissing a student? I think the time for caring has been and gone. The Brits view us Germans as a perverse lot, anyway." He pulled Charles down onto the sofa. "And who am I to prove them wrong?"

Erik's deft hands removed his suit jacket and tie with amazing dexterity in a matter of seconds and all the while he kept up his endless supply of kisses to his lips until, without Charles even noticing, he had bared his neck by undoing his top shirt buttons.

"God, I love your neck." Erik breathed against it before pressing his lips to the join of his neck and shoulder, working kisses all along the exposed flesh. Charles shuddered and moaned softly, one hand tangling in Erik's hair as he nibbled his skin.

"You seem to have quite the – _nnn_ – fetish there. Like a vampire."

Erik smirked. "No, Charles, I don't want your blood, only your body." He said as he pushed him onto his back and climbed over him, licking his collarbone.

"Ahn, Erik…" Charles moaned as his teeth found his ear lobe, teasing it gentle, suckling and kissing. His breath was hot on his ear, his hands too, against his skin as they tugged his shirt free of his trousers and slipped beneath.

"Say my name again." Erik whispered, nipping at his ear.

"Erik!" Charles called out, involuntarily, as Erik's thumb and finger pinched at his nipple. "We have to, oh, God, that feels so good…" He trailed off as Erik ran his hands over his body beneath him, capturing his lips once again.

Protests forgotten, Charles eagerly answered to his kisses, his own hands struggling to free Erik of his jumper. The older man sat up, knees either side of Charles' thighs, and lifted it over his head himself, exposing the taut muscles and smooth flesh beneath to grateful blue eyes.

"Your clothes. I want them off." Erik smirked, attacking the buttons of Charles' shirt with vigour, keeping the young man pinned underneath him.

"But – the pub, and Raven…" Charles protested weakly, hands roaming Erik's body.

"Fuck it." Erik muttered, pressing his body against him, skin to skin, once he'd opened his shirt completely. "I want you, Charles, and you have no-one to blame but yourself."

Charles could feel Erik's arousal pressing into him, hard and big and so tempting, and it was with an immense struggle that he forced his next words out.

"But Raven's coming here. She's meeting us here."

Erik stopped, this time. He lifted himself onto his elbows and looked down at Charles. "Your sister is coming here?"

Charles nodded.

"Can you sense where she is?"

He nodded again.

"Is she close?"

Charles closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple. "She's leaving her place now."

"How far is that?"

"Twenty minutes away."

Erik grinned and waved his hand at the door. With a loud click, the lock churned into place.

"Well then, that's twenty minutes of you at my mercy."

Charles shivered.

**A/N **_I feel evil, oh so evil, I feel evil and taunting and hey! You're gonna have to review for another chapter, hooray!_

_I love every single one of you who has read, favourited and reviewed this so far. You guys make me happier than an armful of kittens._

_Zephyr :D _


	5. A Change of Skin

**Part Five**

**A Change of Skin**

When Raven tried the door, it was locked. She heard voices inside and knocked loudly.

"Charles! It's me! Open up!" She called.

Charles opened the door and smiled at his little sister. She was wearing one of the frightfully short dresses that were in fashion and a pair of shiny black boots.

"You'll be cold."

"We'll be inside." Raven shrugged. Erik appeared behind Charles. "Hi Erik."

"Hi, Raven. You look lovely." He complimented.

"See, Erik likes my dress." Raven stuck her tongue out at Charles. "C'mon, let's get going."

Locking the door behind him, Charles gave Erik a look. They had, in the nick of time, forced themselves apart and dressed again, Charles splashing cold water on his face to cool down, Erik standing by the open window, willing his erection to dissipate.

Too flustered to bother with a tie and his suit jacket having been accidently creased up beneath their eager bodies, Charles had pulled a blue jumper over his shirt instead, the colour reflecting in his eyes so as to intensify what was fast becoming an obsession for Erik.

As they left the building, Erik wanted to hold Charles' hand. He wanted to kiss him, too, but knew not to do either. Raven was making eyes at him as Charles hailed a taxi and they clambered inside. He felt stupendously awkward from there on out, not failing to notice the flirtatious glances Raven sent him with Charles wedged between them in the back seats.

He, oblivious fool, chattered affably throughout the brief drive to the pub. When they arrived and made an entrance, a couple of young men he recognised from his tour greeted Charles with enthusiasm and eyed him warily, until Sean popped up and welcomed him with a stumbling effort that left no doubt in Erik's mind – he _had_ to be high. He had to be on something, smoking weed, without a doubt.

"Hey professor, how's it going?" He greeted in a slow drawl, laughing for no apparent reason.

"Are you high?" Erik shot out bluntly, making him laugh again.

"Aren't you?" Sean said by way of answer, as if it was more unnatural to be sober than stoned.

"Erik!" Charles said loudly to get his attention and avert the conversation. "Drinks? Come, help me get in the drinks."

As they elbowed their way to the bar – the pub was fairly crowded – Charles apologised for Sean, explaining that he had already attempted to drill into his head how damaging marijuana was to the psyche.

"But it's everywhere, isn't it? That, and other things." He sighed, shaking his head.

"I can guarantee I can change his mind about his habit. You speak as though you're the professor. You'd think they were _your_ students." Erik mused as Charles ordered in the drinks, seeming to know what his friends would order. The coke, he assumed, was for Raven, who was too young to drink.

"Sometimes, it feels as though they are." Charles agreed. "So what do you think, then, of these fine able-minded young people? This pub is full of students from the university; I bet at least some of them will be taking your class."

Erik glanced around, and recalled the card he'd transferred to his trouser pocket.

"I know one student who is taking my class, and so far, I must say I'm quite pleased with my audience." He said as he slipped the card out from his pocket. Charles bit his lip, seeming embarrassed, but the action was incredibly sexual in Erik's mind.

"Ah, yes, that. Well, I figured your office could use something to cheer it up. Did you like it? If you don't, I can – "

"Charles Xavier, stop right there. Of course I liked it. By the way, what does the F in your name stand for?"

"Francis." Raven startled them both, appearing behind Charles. "Dorky name, but whatever. You guys are taking forever."

"Dorky?" Charles gasped, feigning hurt. "Raven, how could you?"

"What's your full name then, if his is so amusing?" Erik asked.

"Darkholme. Raven Darkholme." She smiled with a pleased air. Clearly, she liked her own name.

"Interesting name." Erik admitted. "But I do like the odd ones." He added, looking at Charles.

"Come on you guys, let's get the drinks in." Raven made a grab for her coke and a glass of beer, while Charles and Erik carried the others.

They found Raven sat with the young men from earlier, and Charles passed their drinks around. They sat together, side by side, on a worn leather bench with a wooden back, cushions propped up behind them, equally worn out. Raven sat with the other young men on a mismatched selection of stools and chairs.

"So this is the new professor you were talking about?" The dark-skinned youth Erik recognised asked Charles. So Charles had been talking about him?

"Yes, everyone, this is Professor Erik Lensherr, of the Physics department. Erik, this is Darwin, Alex and Sean." He indicated to them each in turn. Erik nodded and smiled to them all, taking a sip of his beer. German, of course.

"Sean, I had been meaning to tell you about the studies being made on the use of medical marijuana, I thought you might be interested."

"Medical marijuana? What kind of illness gets you weed?" The redhead perked up. Charles watched Erik closely, not failing to notice the malicious glint in his eyes and the smirk that played at his lips.

"You see," Erik ignored Sean's question, "scientists have discovered a terrible negative side effect of the drug."

"Negative side effect?" Sean echoed. The others were all listening closely, too.

"Yes, quite the adverse effect. In men, marijuana induces impotency, reducing the blood flow to the penis and restricting the amount of sperm produced. Some men who smoke marijuana regularly find themselves completely incapable of gaining an erection." Erik explained casually, but his eyes gloated as Sean's face drained of all colour and the young man sobered up promptly.

"Don't tell him that, you'll make him throw up!" Alex laughed.

"Or scream, and nobody's ears would be safe!" Darwin added. Sean looked astoundingly sick for a moment before he disappeared, leaving the rest of the table to howl with laughter.

"Good heavens, Erik, you did the impossible – frightened Sean out of smoking that damn plant!" Charles gasped between bouts of laughter.

"It's entirely his choice if he continues smoking, but I figured he should know the truth of his habit." Erik replied, his evil grin back, eyes aglow with victory. "I told you I'd handle it."

"That you did!" Charles smiled.

"By the way, what did you mean by his scream, Darwin?" Erik asked curiously.

"Sean's got these vocals that can be deadly." Darwin shrugged, and Erik eyed Charles for an elaboration.

"You see, my friend, Sean's mutation allows him to produce sounds that no other human could hope to create. His vocal chords are quite magnificent. He can shatter glass as easy as I am talking to you now."

"So he's like us, right?" Alex asked as he watched the exchange between the two men. "The professor, I mean."

"Yes, he is. Erik, you are sat at a table composed entirely of people with fascinating genetic mutations, you, who thought himself alone only days ago."

Erik looked at the faces around him. "You are all mutants. I can't quite believe that you are all like me, like Charles. What can you all do?"

By this point, Sean had returned. "What's happening?"

"Erik's one of us." Raven explained. Sean eyed him warily.

"What's your thing, then? Scaring students?"

Erik laughed evilly. "No, that's just a natural talent. I think it best if we discuss this elsewhere, without so many humans around to hear."

"Why don't we go for a walk after another round, or two?" Darwin suggested. "I'm quite interested to see what the professor can do."

"Me too." Raven gave him another flirty smile.

"Well then," Charles smiled at them all, "to us. To evolution."

"To evolution." The echoed, bringing their glasses together.

Once they had become accustomed to Erik's taunting ways and manic grin – "Dude, you look like a freaking _shark._" Sean had pointed out – they all got along very well indeed. Despite them all being at least eight years younger than him, Charles' maturity and the friendly nature of the others made up for that, though he still felt somewhat out of place drinking with students. Was it even allowed? Was he breaking some kind of rule?

Doubtlessly, he had already broken a fair few with Charles.

He smiled at him when they shared a sneaked glance, moving his hand onto his thigh under the table, alcohol making him brash as he rubbed a thumb in circles. Charles leaned closer to him, whether he was aware of it or not Erik couldn't tell, as he continued to explain (for the umpteenth time) to Sean that red hair was a mutation.

"All homo sapiens originally had brown eyes and black hair like the apes before us. Over thousands of years we mutated to the colourful array of specimens we are today." Charles explained.

"That knowledge made Hitler try and create a super race of Aryans, thinking that the fairer the human, the better they had to be." Erik said bitterly. "But we aren't human, Charles. We are not homo sapiens."

"Not so loudly, Erik." Charles near-whispered, leaning into him until his voice was in his ear. "Perhaps we should neglect talk of that man and what he thought, yes?"

"I'd like nothing more than to forget he ever existed." Erik said, lowering his voice. "But you know I can't. I can't forget that humans like him existed, and humans like him killed my family."

He had said it quietly, privately, but the others caught his words.

"I'm sorry, Erik. Did you lose family in the war?" Darwin asked. He had proven to be the most mature of them all.

"That, and more." Erik replied flippantly. "Looks like we're empty, another round?"

"Another!" Alex cheered. "Whose turn is it?"

"I'll get this one. Charles, would you help?" Erik prompted.

The two men ordered at the bar, leaving the raucous youngsters behind them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking about Nazi's and humans like that." Erik apologised.

"Let's just enjoy the evening, shall we? It's getting late, and I think they're all dying to see what you can do, and show off, also."

They took the drinks back and talk returned to studies and Erik's class. Darwin would also be attending, but Sean and Alex didn't study sciences. Sean quoted Shakespeare from time to time, and it made Erik smile, to know there was more than drugs to the boy.

After finishing their drinks, the diverse group gathered their belongings and made their way into the night. The boys all bunked in dormitories on campus while Raven shared a flat with two fellow waitresses, complaining that one had her boyfriend over and the "walls are paper thin."

All anxious to know more about the others abilities, Charles agreed that they could use his room to talk further provided they "bugger off" when he told them too. Erik smiled to himself, thinking that he wanted that time to come sooner than later so he could have the young man to himself once again.

Subconsciously, he walked closely to Charles, putting his arm around him at one point when the small man complained that everyone was targeting him with jokes about his diminutive height. Charles has responded by melding into him briefly before warning him to let go with a look that translated loud a clear.

_Not yet. It's too soon, and they are not ready. _

Charles started another fire while everyone settled in the room, calling for Charles' famous scotch and Raven wrinkling her nose when she was allowed to try a small quantity. The three boys claimed the sofa, Raven straddling a chair from the dining table backwards after dragging it close to the fire, and Erik sat on the arm chair with Charles sprawled out at his feet, stretched in front of the fire like a lazy cat, jumper removed and shirt sleeves pushed up.

"Good grief, Raven, you cannot sit like that whilst wearing something so revealing." Charles cried, shielding his eyes humorously. Raven blushed with ferocity, hiding it by shouting something back at Charles, but she abandoned her seat on the chair – which Erik was certain had been positioned to attract his attention to her unfortunate misdemeanour – and sat opposite her brother on the floor, basking in the heat of the fire.

"So, I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" Erik suggested, causing the boys to snicker and Raven to raise a slender brow.

"Be my guest, professor." She laughed teasingly. "I think you should go first."

With a smirk, Erik noticed the chain about her neck. He waved his hand, and it came loose, floating over to him to hang off his outstretched finger. She stared in awe, glee written all over her face.

"So I was right – you _were_ the one moving the salt at work!"

"Yes, Erik has the ability to manipulate metal." Charles said.

Erik returned the necklace to her, letting it hover before her face to show her that he had not damaged it but, in fact, undone the tiny clasp before removing it from her.

"Lift your hair." He suggested, and she did, giving him another look, and he fastened it about her neck once more from his seat, thinking that her neck was not so tempting as Charles' was. But then, of course it wasn't. He was only attracted to men.

"My turn." Darwin decided, darting around the table and shoving Charles' legs away from way they stretched before the fire. Without hesitation he held his hand into the flames, and Erik watched as his flesh turned into some kind of hard rock-type substance. He showed no sign of discomfort of any kind, and Erik grinned at the display.

"Darwin's an apt nickname, y'see. I adapt to my environment." He explained, extracting his hand. After it had cooled, it turned back into a normal arm. "If I'm in water, I grow gills."

"Fascinating." Erik agreed, genuinely amazed.

"That's nothing!" Raven exclaimed, standing up. "Mines way cooler."

"Ah, the mysterious Raven. Charles neglected to tell me what you could do, so you have quite the mystique."

"Mystique…" Raven rolled the word about her mouth as though tasking a fine wine. "I like that. Like it a lot, actually."

Erik watched as, before his very eyes, Raven transformed into the mirror image of Erik himself. She took their, grinning his own shark-grin in his own clothes, and he gawped, truly gawped, amazed into silence.

"Told you mine was cooler." She said with his voice. Erik found himself laughing in incredulity.

"That is – that is absolutely incredible! You – you're me! Exactly! Can you do that for anyone?" He asked. Raven grinned, and turned into Charles. She stood with her hands on her hips, head thrown back at a jaunty angle.

"I'm sorry Erik, I'm far too busy being a genius to entertain your silly requests." She said in a precise, if not unfair, imitation of Charles' voice. Charles turned red.

"I do not talk like that!" He refused, but stood up and went to Raven's side, laughing. "Astonishing, isn't it? She's becomes the exact duplicate of anyone, so long as she's seen them, even if only in a photograph or on television."

"Do me! Do me!" Sean cried, and they all laughed, Sean taking his turn to go red. "You know what I mean!"

Raven turned from Charles to Sean effortlessly, adopting a slouching pose and pretending a pen she was holding was in fact a joint.

"I'm sorry, this has never happened before. I should have listened to Erik about the adverse effects of marijuana on the male body." At that, the room roared with laughter, even Sean after a moment. "Do you want to see what I look like?" She asked after the laughter had died down, still in her adopted body.

"I've seen you, though?" Erik asked, confused. Raven shook her, or rather, Sean's head.

"No, you haven't." She smiled, and her appearance changed, rippling into her natural blue form. Erik gaped. She was naked – very naked – but that didn't bother him. What had him gaping was the sheer beauty of her natural self. The brilliant cobalt blue of her skin scattered with reptilian scales, the striking red of her hair, the acidic yellow of her eyes: it was overwhelming.

"You are…" Erik struggled. "Perfect." He finished, quite moved by the sight before him. Raven swallowed, suddenly shy.

"You think so?" She asked quietly. "You don't think it's…weird? Ugly?"

"Weird? Yes, absolutely, and that's why it's so beautiful." Erik smiled reassuringly at her. "Raven, you have no reason to hide yourself when you're with us. We are all the same because we are all different. This is who you are – not that blonde human you turn yourself into. I understand, I do, that you have to hide this from those people out there." He threw his hand in disgust at the windows, as if out there lay a world of enemies. Charles began to wonder if Erik truly did view humans as the enemy.

"He's right, Raven." Charles added. "You don't need to hide around us. Though, I think for the sake of their sanity," he jerked his head at the slack-jawed boys on the sofa, "that you should at least wear some clothes."

Raven laughed, and turned back into her blonde self, clothes and all. "I'll think about it."

Charles explained the ins and outs of Alex's ability after Erik had requested to see it and the entire group screaming "no!" like he had suggesting the bring upon the apocalypse. After Charles was done explaining, he understood that he had been damn close to it.

They talked together for a short while longer before the boys left to go to their dorms to get enough sleep for the next days lessons in a rare show of maturity, and Charles hinted at Raven that she should leave, saying that he would call a taxi for her. She whined a little, but eventually agreed after a traitorous yawn disturbed her complaints. Charles, however, had no money on his person, nor did Raven, and so Erik went into his room to fetch the spare money he kept his safe to get Raven home safely.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful like this?"

He jolted in shock, spinning around to see a very naked and very blue Raven stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Raven – what are you doing here?" He asked nervously. Truly, he did think Raven should be comfortable as she was in her natural form, but he couldn't help but not know where to look because she was, after all, an extremely naked teenager.

"Do you? Nobody's ever said that before. Not even Charles. He says all the right things, that I should accept myself like this, but he doesn't have to say that he prefers me normal." She sighed. Erik frowned.

"You _are_ normal as you are. Your natural form is your own normality. But, really, Raven, you shouldn't be in here, and though you are truly astounding as you are you should still wear clothes when you're like that. It isn't decent for me to look at you."

"Why?" Raven asked in a peculiar voice, walking closer to him. "I thought you said I was perfect like this." She said, stopping inches away from Erik, her bare, scaled breast grazing his upper arm.

He took a step backward. "You are, truly. But that does not detract from the fact that you are a teenager without clothes on and I am a grown man – "

Raven silenced him by kissing him, startling him too much for him to respond. Eventually, he gathered his wits when he felt her tongue lick at his sealed lips, and he pushed her away.

"Stop it, Raven!" He demanded, holding his hand out to ward her off. She looked hurt. "You cannot do that. Do not do that again. You're just a child – "

"Would you prefer it if I looked like this?" She said, her voice changing into a more familiar one along with her form, until Charles stood before him. He tugged a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"What do you mean?" Was all he managed to say.

"I've seen how you look at him." The false-Charles said. "I saw you touching him in the pub, too. I know he's gay. I thought you must be, but then you said those things."

"Raven, I meant what I said, I did, but not like that."

"Do you like Charles?" She asked in his voice, moving back towards him, staring up at him with a perfect imitation of his stunning blue eyes and pouty red lips. She reached a hand up to touch his face, and his breath halted. It was too bizarre. It was as if it _was _Charles, even though he knew it wasn't.

"Yes." He breathed softly, the word escaping him like a lovers sigh.

"What the hell are you doing, Raven?" A stern voice shouted, and the real Charles stormed into the room with a face like thunder. He grabbed his reflection by the arm that had its hand on Erik and yanked her away, surprising Raven back into her own self.

"I – "

"Just shut up. I leave you for one minute to call you a taxi and this is what you do? Tricking Erik into think you are me, and – "

"I didn't trick him into anything!" She shouted back, very much like a teenager. "He knew it was me!"

Charles glared at Erik. "Did you?"

"Yes, but it's not like that, she was – well, she…" Erik sighed and moved closer to Charles, giving up on words and putting his hand on the back of his neck and kissing him softly but possessively. Raven watched with yellow eyes full of hurt and jealousy.

"Erik…" Charles breathed.

"She was asking if I liked you. She was just playing. Don't be angry at her." Erik glanced at Raven, warning her to keep her mouth shut because he was saving her sorry ass.

"Alright." Charles sighed. "Raven, get ready and get going. The taxi should be here by now." He ordered sternly. When she hesitated, he added a forceful, "now."

Shimmering back into her human self Raven left in ashamed silence, and Erik and Charles looked at one another meaningfully.

"Well, now she knows." Charles sighed again. "I'm so sorry, truly I am. Her behaviour is unpredictable at best."

"Don't worry about it. She's just struggling to cope with her differences. I know how that feels." Erik rubbed the back of Charles neck affectionately. "Enough about her."

Charles looked up at him with a flirtatious smile, and it affected him the way his sisters never had.

**A/N **_Tsk tsk, Raven, how very devious of you. I had in mind that she would trick Erik into believing she was Charles but then decided to involve her attraction to Erik and need to be accepted. I promise smut in the next chapter, so give me love darlings!_

_Zephyr. _


	6. Code of Conduct

**Part Six**

**Code of Conduct**

With purposeful strides Erik took Charles to the bed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder to get him to sit, and pushing him backward until he was lying on his back, crawling over him and claiming his lips again. Soft, affectionate kisses rained over the smaller mans lips, jaw and neck, making his skin tingle pleasantly.

"I wanted to get you alone all night." Erik murmured into his ear, giving his attention to it with lips and teeth and tongue.

"Likewise, my – _ahh, _friend." Charles gasped, hands clawing at Erik's shoulders. He moved them down to the hem of his jumper and tugged it upwards in a desperate manner. Erik chuckled inwardly and brought himself up off Charles to remove the offending article.

"Now you." He growled, and it made Charles shiver, that deliciously commanding tone of voice. Charles shifted into sitting upright, fingers almost trembling as they attempted to unfasten the tiny buttons of his shirt. But two steady hands stopped him from his struggles, and his eyes looked up into Erik's as they stared at him with obvious hunger.

"Erik!" He gasped as the older man tore his shirt open and off in one swift movement. Buttons flew to scatter on the floor and Erik was on him at once, pushing him back down on the bed and returning to his domineering position above him, chests pressed flush together as he attacked his neck with enthusiasm.

Charles could feel his hands touching him, touching his sides, his chest, in his hair, and was certain that both hands were currently occupied when he felt his belt unbuckled and watched it fly across the room, the buttons and zip of his trousers releasing simultaneously. With a chuckle that was cut off by a moan as Erik's teasing tongue found his nipple, he managed to gasp out,

"Hey, that's cheating," before another groan escaped him as his sensitive bud was nipped lightly between two sharp teeth.

"It's not cheating; it's impatient multi-tasking at its best." Erik said against his chest, tongue giving his nipple another lick.

_Cheater. _Charles whispered in his mind, his hips bucking up to rub against Erik's, bringing to the forefront of his attention how horribly tight his trousers were feeling. He forcefully pushed Charles' hips back onto the mattress with one hand, keeping them there as he imitated his movements and ground his hips downward, weight supported on one arm, leverage providing him an excellent view of Charles as he flung his head back and moaned.

"Why Charles, I had no idea how wanton you were." Erik teased, hips unrelenting.

"You have," a gasp, "no idea."

Erik stopped his movements and grinned. "That sounds promising."

Charles' trouser zipper and button were metal, and Erik used this advantage to strip the beauty underneath him of his trousers, leaving him in only his underwear, a prominent bulge attracting his attention as he licked his lips. He still wore his own trousers, and Charles attacked these with vigour, greedy grabbing hands stripping them off with practiced ease before he pushed Erik onto the bed, climbing on top of him without hesitation, completely comfortable with his undressed state. Seeing him on top of him, skin flushed and hot to the touch, lips swollen and eyes heavy lidded, was a sight Erik would lock into his memory forever.

So it was painful for him to say what he had to say.

"Charles, wait. Charles, stop." He insisted. "We only met yesterday. Are you sure you want to do this?" He said once he had his attention. Charles raked his floppy hair back off his face with his fingers, sighing.

"I know. And normally, I wouldn't dream of doing this so quickly, but…" He looked down at Erik and smiled mischievously. "You started it."

"I'm supposed to be the responsible professor, aren't I?" Erik chuckled with mirth. "And here I am, in bed with a student."

Charles grinned and moved his hips down against the professors. "It's quite perverse, really, isn't it?"

"Mmm, definitely." Erik agreed, distracted by the delicious friction between them.

"You Germans truly are perverse, aren't you?"

"Actually, I was born in Poland, so I have no idea what you're talking about." Erik grinned before reversing their position again and all but tearing the underwear off Charles. "Fuck the rules." He breathed hotly against his neck, nibbling the skin as he wrapped a hand around Charles' already leaking erection, earning a wonderful moan from him.

He stroked it a few times before abandoning his hold, making Charles whine. The noise went straight to his own throbbing cock.

He settled down between two slender, pale legs and blew cool air on the dribbling tip of his cock. Charles gasped, eyes flying open to watch as the foreign professor gripped him firmly with one hand and slid his tongue over the tip, licking the precum like it was a luscious treat. His tongue trailed down the length of him and back up, taking him shallowly into his mouth and suckling softly while the hand at the base of his shaft moved down to massage his balls, his middle finger straying from the others to rub gently at his already damp entrance.

"Oh, my God, _Erik_." Charles groaned as he sucked the length of him into his mouth, feeling his head prodding the back of his throat. As he swallowed the rest of him down into his capacitating throat, he slipped that single digit partially inside of him, earning a cry so loud it made him thankful they were the only ones in the vicinity. And if they weren't? Fuck it, he couldn't care less.

Charles' hips moved of their own accord, pushing back on the finger Erik had inserted into him. Erik would have smirked if he didn't have a mouth full of Charles as it was, and gently pushed the finger fully inside of him, Charles now unable to stop the steady stream of noises coming from his mouth as Erik sucked and bobbed his head up and down his length.

Wriggling that single finger around for good measure, Charles' body then accepted another finger as he slowly, carefully, added it into his hole. It made Erik wonder how many men the young man had already had inside of him, how used to taking it he was. The thought of someone else touching him like he was, however, made jealousy flare up ugly inside of him, and he sucked harshly at his sensitive head and scissored the fingers inside of him. Charles cried out again, louder this time, hips thrusting up off the bed.

Erik took him fully inside his mouth, so far down his nose was pressed against the faint thicket of brown hair around him. Charles practically screamed when he started thrusting his fingers inside of him briskly and sucking him harder.

"Erik, oh God Erik, please, I'm going to come…stop…" Charles moaned breathlessly.

Erik angled his fingers and curled them around a few times until he stroked against the lump inside of Charles that had him screaming again, pressing his fingers into it over and over as he wound his tongue about his head.

"_Ah_, fuck, Erik, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Charles cried, his cock pulsing as he released into Erik's waiting mouth, fingers inside him pressed firmly against his prostate and Erik's other hand pumping at his shaft to encourage everything he had to offer to come out.

It seemed like he came a half dozen times, body shuddering, before he collapsed back onto the bed in a panting, sweating mess. Erik withdrew his fingers and let him slip out of his mouth, swallowing without a second though, and licking his cock clean for good measure, earning a whimper from Charles, who had thrown his arm over his face, the other gripping the sheets beneath him.

Erik lay down next to him, wrapping an arm around him to draw him into his embrace while Charles regained his breath and some composure.

"Good God, Erik." He said breathlessly. "I've not come that hard before. Ever."

Erik grinned. "Good. It means you won't be looking elsewhere."

Charles laughed airlessly. "Definitely not. I'm keeping you for myself."

"I have no problems with that at all." Erik smiled, genuinely made happy by the comment. Charles looked up at him and smiled back, kissing his lips tenderly, his hand slipping down Erik's body to his neglected erection. "You don't have to – "

A kiss silenced him. "I want to." Charles murmured against his lips. "With the orgasm you just gave me, I think it only fair."

His alarm clock woke them at seven, Charles stirring from the confines of Erik's arms and Erik grunting in distaste, the alarm clock flying across the room to shatter against the wall, shocking Charles fully out of sleep.

"Ah, Christ, I have to stop doing that." Erik grumbled.

"Did you just use your powers to break the alarm clock?" Charles asked, unable to hide his smile at the sight of his new lover yanking the covers over their heads in refusal of the morning.

"Maybe." Erik muttered, holding Charles tight against him. "Guten Morgen, mein liebling."

"Good morning." Charles kissed him soft and quick on the lips. "My grumpy professor."

Erik rolled his eyes. "I've never been a morning person."

"Oh really?" Charles smirked playfully, reaching down between Erik's legs and grabbing the definite erection there. "Your body seems to like mornings." He murmured in his ear.

"Charles…" Erik groaned. "Don't. We have to get up."

Charles grinned and stroked his hand firmly along his shaft. "I've never seen one like yours before." He said.

"You mean…?" Erik asked, before his mind clicked. "I told you, I'm Jewish. Does it bother you?"

"Bother me?" Charles chuckled throatily, morning voice attractively husky. "Not at all. You have a lovely cock."

Erik stared at him with his eyebrows raised. "Did you just say the words 'lovely' and 'cock' in the same breath?"

"I most certainly did. It's true. I have to say, I quite like the look of it, and the feel of it," he disappeared further down the bed, "and the taste of it."

Feeling Charles' mouth around him sent Erik's brain into overload so early in the morning. Last night, Charles had returned the favour and proved just how wanton he was, happily taking him into his mouth. Well, as much as he could, considering, as Charles had put it, "Good grief, Erik, it's positively giant, I don't think it will fit!"

The obscene wet noises coming from below made Erik groan again as Charles worked his magic.

"Charles, stop, before I lose control." Erik pleaded, and Charles let him out of his mouth and crawled over him, lying on top of him.

"I really wish we didn't have to get up." He whispered, nuzzling his neck affectionately. "I would love to spend longer with you and your lovely cock."

"Charles, you will be the death of me if you keep talking like that." Erik sighed happily. "I could really use a cold shower right now."

"I'm afraid we haven't the facilities. But I can run you a cool bath, so long as I can share it with you?" He suggested, already slipping out of the bed to follow through with his promise. Erik watched him walk away, staring at the firm ass that had attracted his attention from the start, smiling to himself. That ass, as far as he was concerned, belonged to him now.

Focusing his mind on the day ahead, Erik forced himself out of bed, rubbing a hand over his face. From his position seated on the bed he could see a stark naked Charles swirling water around the bathtub.

"By the way, I forgot to mention that we have a shared kitchen in this wing. I rarely use it, but I thought it would be of use to you" Charles called through, turning to see Erik staring at him.

"We do? I didn't realise. Where is it?"

"I'll show you later. I'm afraid I have absolutely no culinary experience and can scarcely manage to make toast, so don't expect me to be cooking for you."

"I suppose you had a chef at home, did you?" Erik asked as he walked into the bathroom.

Charles shrugged, as if to make light of the fact he was incredibly wealthy. "Yes, we did. So, will you forgive me my inability to cook? You truly don't want to see what happens if you set me loose at a hot stove. Raven has expressly forbidden my ever cooking for her again."

"That bad, huh?" Erik wrapped his arms around Charles from behind. Charles leaned against him.

"It's a miracle she survived, to be honest." Charles laughed, and Erik followed, finding that with Charles it was impossible not to laugh, not to smile and feel wonderful.

"I'm not too bad myself; at least, I don't poison people. If there's time later, could you show me where the nearest supermarket is? I could cook for us tonight."

"Of course, it's not far, I'd be happy to take you, and I'm intrigued to see what kind of food you're promising me."

Erik grinned. "I promise to delight your taste buds. If you don't use the kitchen, what do you eat?"

"Food, like you, only other people cook it for me."

"The great class divide."

**A/N** _Ok so the end was super rushed because I'm busy but wanted to update, also I'd like to apologise for the fact FF refuses to acknowledge when I put in extra line breaks to signify the start of new paragraphs, so the layout is awful. _

_Zephyr_


	7. Falling

**Part Seven**

**Falling**

Charles was in the front row as promised. During his first lecture, Erik had to force himself not to stare at Charles all the while but Charles did not return the courtesy – he watched Erik intently, seeming to everyone else like just another eager student, but Erik could see the teasing look in his blue, blue eyes, the occasional flirtatious smile he aimed at Erik when their eyes met.

The young man made it incredibly difficult for Erik to stay on track. Often he found himself stumbling, trailing off when caught by Charles' gaze, only to stutter and desperately claw at his memory to try and remember what he had been explaining to the class. He hoped that the other students in attendance would take his flawed lecture as first day nerves. He hoped more so that none of them noticed the faint flush to his skin or the times when he found it impossible to resist giving Charles a hungry look in return for his needy ones, or how when Charles answered one of his questions he did so in this _voice _that Erik decided you would have to be deaf not to understand, not to hear the teasing, I've-seen-under-that-suit tone.

But nobody did hear it. Nobody picked up on the choking sexual tension between the foreign professor and the affluent student.

They did, however, see quite clearly when Erik gasped loudly and his hand flew to his head, eyes screwing shut and body bowing as if under pressure. Startled young voices echoed his name about the room, but Erik could barely hear them, could barely even stand upright as images flooded his mind.

Charles with his legs spread, moaning breathlessly, red lips gasping for air.

Charles clawing at the bed, body quivering and gleaming with sweat.

Charles with his plump, kissable lips wrapped around his cock, eyes wide sapphire globes boring into him as he maintained eye contact throughout the act at Erik's insistence when he had practically ordered him to do so.

Charles' sly grin when he'd taken the order, they way he'd said "I like a man who knows what he wants" even as he licked his length, eyes gazing up and holding Erik's as he committed the scene to memory…

Recovering himself after the floodgates closed, Erik shot Charles a look that was part reprimand, part plea but mostly sexual threat.

"I experience migraines. Nothing to worry about." He'd told the class, keeping his body behind the podium at all costs due to the painfully hard erection he had.

Charles simply gave him a wholesome, innocent smile as his eyes gleamed wickedly.

The first time Erik saw Charles, he could never have fathomed they would be like this. More so, he could never have imagined the sweet looking young man could be so sexually deviant.

The lesson progressed, Charles mercifully staying out of his mind, taking notes as he spoke and acting so nonchalantly normal Erik almost wondered if it had been his own imagination.

His own imagination was not as vivid as that.

Erik knew that Charles had a brilliant mind. Though Erik was of a higher intelligence than most, Charles was something special. Not only was he kind, charming and altogether stunningly attractive, his mind was something else, something intricately, gloriously wonderful. It made sense, however, that he would be so gifted intellectually – his power was that of the mind, of course he would have a mind that surpassed all humanity. He wasn't human, not really, so to say that his mind, his sheer intelligence, was inhuman, was no stretch.

Though Erik was the professor in that classroom, Charles, even with his superhuman intellect, surprised him with his knowledge of physics, clearly comprehending every word that came out of Erik's mouth and answering every question correctly when the rest of the class merely scratched their heads or gave flawed or wholly incorrect answers. That is not to say he had a bad class – they were all willing, capable students, but he worried that he had set the bar too high for a class of humans.

One thing he had not expected was for his class to be full to capacity, and by the end of his first hour he had gained confidence in them, gratified to find that they were all genuinely interested in what he had to say.

By the end of the hour, he was also absolutely consumed by the desire to bend Charles over the podium and fuck him in front of the class as punishment for distracting him during the lecture. Instead, he called him into his office using his professor voice, Charles gathering his things and following him through as the class dispersed.

Without a word, Erik grabbed him by the collar and shoved him hard against the nearest wall with a thump loud enough to be heard in the next room, but he was damned if he cared.

"What did I tell you about staying out of my mind?" He breathed into his ear.

"I didn't go into your mind. I merely projected what was going through mine back at you." Charles explained with an audible smirk before Erik caught his lips in a bruising kiss, pressing full bodily against him as his hands held either side of his face exactly where he wanted it, rough hands on smooth skin.

His kiss was full of the frustration Charles had inflicted upon him, needy and demanding and so, so good Charles moaned into it, hands grabbing at Erik and clinging to him as the breath was stolen from him, all coherent thoughts diminishing into one clear, resonating word: Erik.

As they broke apart Erik laced his fingers through the gossamer brunette locks of his favourite student.

"If you keep up this behaviour, Charles, I'm going to have to punish you. We can't have the class thinking I let my students get away with such inappropriate behaviour, can we? I should make a demonstration of you, shouldn't I?" Erik threatened as he tightened his hand in his hair until it was painful, but painful in the most delicious way.

Charles felt himself harden instantly at the words, at the mental image they conjured, at the heat in Erik's voice and the return of his sexual dominance. There was no doubt in Charles' mind any more: Erik was very much a dominant, but that was alright; Charles could quite happily be submissive for a man like Erik.

He had never thought of himself as a submissive, but the thrill the mere suggestion of being dominated by Erik, and for an audience no less, gave him had him thinking that life at Oxford was going to be very interesting indeed.

"A demonstration?" He practically squeaked, desperate to hear what Erik had in mind.

"Oh yes." Erik grinned his shark smile, hand slipping down to cup Charles' ass. "What happens to naughty boys, hmm?"

"I don't kno – _oh!_" Charles gasped when the hand on his ass slapped down hard, pushing him into Erik's waiting body as one hand stayed tight in his hair. That hand pulled hard, forcing Charles' head back, Erik's teeth scraping against his pulse.

Melded so close to Erik's body, he could feel the prominent bulge in his trousers.

"I have a class coming in as we speak. Can you hear them? They will be taking their seats, waiting for me. If I dragged you out by the hair and took a seat for myself, I could put you over my knee and spank you in front of them all. That's your punishment. Then, when you're begging for me to stop, you can apologise for distracting me in class by going on your knees and sucking my cock." He whispered into Charles' ear.

"Oh, god, _Erik_…" Charles groaned. Had Erik told him he was going to fuck him right there, right then, he would have happily acquiesced without a second thought, the hell with anyone who might hear or see, the hell with how newly acquainted they were. If Erik could talk like that, he couldn't even begin to imagine what he could actually _do _when his dirty, tantalizing words were put into action.

"But you seem to like that idea, don't you?" Erik said as he rubbed his palm against Charles' crotch, his cock twitching at the attention. "You want me to do just that. You want everyone to see what a greedy whore you are."

_Erik, please. _He begged with his mind, unable to even form words as teeth and tongue teased his ear and neck.

_I could push you onto my desk and fuck you right now, couldn't I? You wouldn't even try to stop me. _Erik projected back to him as he kissed him fiercely.

The wonders of telepathy – even if his mouth was busy, he could still communicate with Charles.

A knock at the door separated them. Before Erik answered, both quickly arranged themselves, straightening clothes and hair, Charles cleverly placing his bag in front of him to hide his arousal, Erik holding a handful of papers in front of himself.

A young woman stood at the door, seeming oblivious to what had been taking place mere feet from her.

"I'll be right there." Erik smiled charmingly at her. "Charles, I'll have those books to you imminently. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Amazed at Erik's ability to appear totally nonplussed, Charles nodded and stood in a daze.

"Thank you professor." He said as he brushed by him to leave. _You're right. I wouldn't stop you. _He added on his way out, Erik's face priceless as he stared after him.

-x-x-x-

The day passed by swiftly, Erik giving lectures and Charles studying dutifully, but both men were occasionally distracted by thoughts of the other. Charles found himself in the library with a pile of books and a sore neck, rubbing at his aching muscles and wondering what Erik was doing and whether he should take him some lunch, or if they should go out.

He liked Erik. He liked him an awful lot for someone he'd met only a few days ago. He was a good companion, interesting conversationalist, could have fun and hold his drink while still being an intriguing older man and intelligent, well-versed professor. All in all, Charles felt like he'd hit the jackpot with Erik and could only hope that the professor was as interested in him.

Reminiscing about the previous night and that morning had a small, sly smile creeping across Charles' face as he decided that if that was anything to go by, he could safely assume that Erik was as into him as he hoped.

"What are you smiling about?" A female voice jolted him out of his fancies as he looked up guiltily to see Angel standing over him.

"Nothing." He smiled broadly at her, but she wasn't fooled.

"Oh come on, don't play coy with me mister, I know that smile. Who is he?" She sat herself on the chair next to him, reclining elegantly like a queen in old jeans and leather boots.

It may have been a little stereotypical for Charles to have a close female friend who he gossiped with and all in all acted like a horrendously camp fool with, but Angel was his confidant, a feisty young woman who took an interest in his love life and often tried hooking him up with various friends of hers. Charles would not deny having a certain effeminate side to him and it was with Angel that he indulged himself. He wouldn't have told anyone else about Erik, not yet, anyway, but Angel was another matter. He trusted her, and she would bitch at him if she wasn't first to know, anyway.

"You can't tell anyone, Angel, not a single soul, or I shall avenge myself." He said, making her laugh before she tried to keep a straight face while holding her hand up.

"I do solemnly swear that all knowledge of who Charles Xavier is boning shall remain locked in the darkest recesses of my mind." She giggled, and Charles gave her an admonishing look before laughing along with her, shaking his head at her silliness.

"Not here, let's go get a cup of tea, shall we?" He suggested, and they walked arm in arm to the cafeteria, ordering tea to go and taking it outside, strolling through the gardens aimlessly as they sipped their drinks.

"So, who is he?" Angel asked, and Charles smiled shyly.

"You haven't met him, not yet." He said, and she gave him a look to say _carry on. _"His name is Erik. He's a guest professor from Germany."

Angel gasped dramatically, stopping in her steps and forcing Charles to do the same, turning him to face her and wagging her finger at him.

"Charles Francis Xavier, you naughty boy! A _professor! _And a foreign one, at that. How very devious of you. God, he must be ancient, I didn't know you were into grey hair and wrinkles."

Charles smacked her lightly on the arm. "He's thirty, actually, only eight years older than I am."

"Only!" Angel laughed. "No, you're right, that's not bad at all, a bit of experience, eh? So, have you experienced his experience yet?" Charles blushed a little and gave her a small grin. "You have! Oh, you _are _naughty. So, do share with the class."

"He's, ah, well, he's very…talented. He's a mutant too, you know." He said casually, and Angel's eyes widened once again.

"No. Freakin'. Way. He's like us? What are the chances!?"

"Very slim indeed, my dear. So you understand why I like him, taboo or not, yes? He's attractive, experienced, as you said, intelligent, funny, witty and he's one of us. I don't have to hide from him. It's a rather wonderful thing." Charles sighed in content. "It's early days yet, I know, and I keep reminding myself that he's only in England for six months but Angel, I really do like him an awful lot."

With an almost manic smile Angel hugged him with one arm so as not to spill her tea over him.

"Six months is a long time. Who knows what will happen? I'm so happy for you Charles, I can't wait to meet him. You will introduce us, won't you?"

"Of course, darling, I couldn't keep you away from him if I tried." And it was true: Angel would hunt Erik down and interrogate him before the day was out if he wasn't careful.

"I hope he likes you as much as you like him." She added quietly. "I don't want you getting hurt again, not like before."

"That was different. Phillip was practically still in the closet, and very human. Erik can move metal without touching it and is very much out, so far as I can tell. He's cooking for me tonight, you know."

"How sweet! It's best if you stay away from the stove though, Charles, I don't want you setting your new boyfriend on fire before I get the chance to meet him."

"He's not my boyfriend." Charles blushed. "We haven't even been on a proper date yet."

"Charles, how long have you known him?" Angel narrowed her eyes at him.

"Three days." He answered sheepishly, drawing a gasp from his friend.

"Three days and you've already slept with him?" She gasped.

"We haven't – not that, not yet, only, we just, and we did _sleep _together – "

"Calm down, Charles, _breathe_. I don't need to know the ins and outs of your sex life, I know how awkward you can be. But you haven't actually had sex with him yet, have you?"

"No, not yet." Charles said, realising that by adding the 'not yet' he had admitted to Angel that he did very much want to and did indeed intend to.

"Good, because you aren't a whore, Charles, make him work for it at least." Angel said, patting his arm reassuringly. "Now, tell me all about him."

It was an easy task and a sweet diversion. Charles explained in great detail how wonderful Erik was, but somehow he managed to leave out certain details. Angel watched as Charles breathlessly regaled her with tales of Erik's wit and charm, and most importantly, how he was a suitably challenging opponent at chess.

-x-x-x-

By lunchtime Charles was faced with a dilemma. He stood in a deli ignoring the enquiring looks he received from multiple people as he stood with his fingers pressed to his temple and eyes closed. He had a feeling that both he and Erik would be using the 'migraine' excuse frequently.

_Do you like smoked salmon? _He asked Erik mentally.

_Yes, actually. Why? _Came the instantaneous reply.

_Lunch. _He replied simply.

_This talking in my head thing is rather…peculiar. And I meant what I said about staying out – _

_I'm only projecting words to you and receiving yours, nothing more. I can't see or hear your thoughts or memories, I can control what I give out and receive back to an extent when I focus. This is entirely conversation based. Think of this as a mental telephone, but the only number you have is mine. _He explained.

_God, I must be crazy, but I'm ok with that. As long as you aren't lying, because if you are, Charles, well, we talked about punishment, didn't we? _Erik added, his mental voice somehow managing to be more evocative than his vocal one.

And God damn the bastard, he sent Charles the image of him bent over his knees, Erik's hand slapping down on the bare skin of his ass.

_You've already figured out how to send me visuals? Damn you to hell, Professor Lensherr. _He cursed, receiving an amused laugh as a response. _I'm tempted to force you to eat the cafeteria food. _

_Oh, don't be such a child. _Erik chuckled.

Charles huffed in response, cutting him off and paying for the food.

He took the brown paper bag to Erik's office, where he knew he would be due to the mental link he had created with the man. He had debated with himself on whether to do it, but after their mental to-and-fro it had practically made itself. Erik had told him to stay out of his mind, and so he would: he kept his promises and had no desire to invade his privacy anyway. The mental link simply allowed him a constant connection to Erik that allowed him to know where he was when he concentrated on it, and, if he wanted to, he could open the connection further and allow Erik's surface emotions to reach him.

He wasn't sure if that was a step too far. He wasn't even sure why he was so concerned with a man he'd met only three days ago. All he knew was he had never gone out of his way to find a good quality deli to buy somebody that wasn't his sister lunch. He also only had that mental connection with one other person, and that was none other than Raven herself.

He had, however, blocked the mental highway to avoid any contact with her since she had angered him. He had felt her prodding at it a few times but had refused to relent until she eventually backed away. With the blockade up she couldn't talk to him through the link and he wouldn't have to pick up on her emotions.

He knocked at the door to Erik's office, the now familiar voice of his – _friend? Lover?_ – giving him permission to enter.

Seated at his desk, his suit jacket draped across the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves rolled up, Erik looked up and smiled at him, eyes going to the bag.

"I brought lunch." Charles announced cheerfully, flopping into the other chair on the other side of the desk. "You have a choice between smoked salmon with cream cheese, capers and rocket or char grilled chicken with hummus, cheese and lettuce."

"You actually brought me lunch." Erik smiled, shaking his head. "You are something else, Charles Xavier, you know that?"

With a shy smile, Charles rolled one shoulder. "So are you, Professor Lensherr."

Unwrapping the sandwiches he put them onto the plates he had picked up on his way, cutting them in half and placing half of each one on either plate so that they both had half of either sandwich. He then produced two bottles of mineral water and two slices of lemon cake.

"We ought to have some tea, really." He frowned. "You should have a kettle and tea pot in here."

"I'm not quite the tea junkie you are, Charles, in fact I rather like coffee a good deal more." Erik said casually, but at the shocked and wholly appalled look on Charles' face wondered if he had in fact just told him he enjoyed bathing in the blood of orphaned children to keep his skin young.

"Good grief, you are a heathen." He gasped. "You prefer horrible bitter _coffee _to delicious refreshing tea?"

"I like coffee." Erik shrugged. "I know you Brit's like your tea but in case you forgot, I'm not British."

"Oh, my friend, I cannot believe you would choose coffee over tea. That's punishable by death in England, you do know? And Erik, I told you, I'm not British, I'm American." Charles took a bite out of his salmon sandwich. "This is unbelievably good, by the way. I should go to that deli more often."

Erik copied him and tried the sandwich. His mouth experienced a food orgasm. "Well, taste in hot beverages aside, you have excellent taste in sandwiches, Charles."

They bickered, joked and debated as they ate, Erik gazing at Charles with hopeless fondness as he watched Charles throw his head back and laugh. Kinky mind games and public flirting aside, Erik realised with a start that he had completely fallen head over heels for the diminutive pseudo-British boy. His fascination with him ran bone-deep – what had started as a fatal attraction, lust at first sight, had evolved swiftly, without him realising, into so much more.

He actually experienced the sensation of falling as he sat completely still, all because Charles gave him the sweetest, most sincere smile that lit up his eyes like brilliant blue Christmas lights. Erik was in trouble. He had lusted for the man with a burning fever but now, _now_ he simply wanted him all for himself. He wanted to be with him every moment of every day, see that wonderful smile again and again, directed only at him.

He wanted Charles because Charles was, well, Charles was Charles.

Erik Lensherr was falling in love at break-neck speed.


	8. Above the Belt

**Part Eight**

**Above the Belt**

**A/N **_Quick word of apology for this taking so long. I've got so much to do right now, but I promise, I'm soldiering on! Hope you enjoy it and thank you to everyone who as read, favourited, reviewed and followed this!_

_Zephyr_

Having gained the knowledge that he was falling for Charles, Erik purposefully shifted gears on their relationship, slowing down the speed at which they were hurtling blindfolded.

At first it evidently confused Charles, who after the event in Erik's office was entirely willing to give the professor his body to do with whatever he wanted, but Erik didn't so much as try and get the younger man back into bed. They went shopping, acquired a small mountain of food and transferred it into their kitchen, the simplicity of the domestic activity oddly pleasing to both men.

Erik cooked for Charles, as promised, a German chicken dish with potatoes that was the very definition of wholesome comfort food.

"My mama used to make this for me, but hers was much better." Erik explained as they ate in Charles' room at the small table. "I wish I knew how she did it but it's probably just a mother thing, you know? They have magic hands. They make even the simplest of things wonderful."

Looking lost, eyes downcast, Charles shrugged. "I wouldn't know, my mother has only ever set foot in a kitchen when the liquor cabinet was empty and she decided cooking sherry was an appropriate substitute for vintage sauvignon."

"I forgot you were rich." Erik commented idly, but Charles' head snapped up.

"What do you mean?" He asked accusingly. Erik held his hands up in mock defence.

"You shouldn't be so quick to assume every mention of your wealth is an insult, Charles. I merely meant that I didn't think how different your upbringing would have been to mine given the drastic difference in our circumstances. Me, a poor Jewish boy, and you, an affluent American."

"I'm sorry, I'm just accustomed to people thinking less of me because I have never wanted for anything material. I'm aware that most people view me as a spoilt brat because my sweaters cost more than the average families monthly wage packet contains." Charles looked somewhat sheepish.

"You're not a spoilt brat, Charles, you're refreshingly honest and bizarrely humble." Erik insisted.

"Sometimes I forget; it's easy to when I'm here, in England, surrounded by people from humbler beginnings. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be like them, to have had the same kind of upbringing, away from the influence of money and high society. I always wanted to have a normal family, a normal home, but instead I had an alcoholic mother, a stepfather who hated me, and a shape-shifting sister who ended up being my lifeboat when I felt like I was drowning."

Recognising the distant look in Charles' eyes and wistful tone to his voice, Erik realised, with a jolt of joy, that Charles was about to open up to him and regale a tale of his past. It wasn't until that moment that Erik realised he desperately did want to know everything about Charles and whereas most people irritated him if they even opened their mouths in his presence, Charles had him captivated with every word. With a flare of shame, Erik also realised that though he could vividly recall the exact shade of blue that Charles' eyes were, though he knew the taste of him, of his mouth and his flesh, he knew precious little about him as a person.

x.x.x

Charles settled back into his chair as he began talking;

"I know everybody thinks I must have had it so easy, so good, growing up with the wealth and influence of the Xavier name behind me. They aren't half wrong – it was an easy life. I never wanted for anything, never lacked for a single thing so long as it could be bought with money, but I was starved of one thing, and that was the love and attention of my family. My father died when I was young and my mother, who had already enjoyed drinking, never really moved on after his death and chose to drown herself in alcohol. When she married again, it was to a man whose fortune had been squandered and lost, who decided that a vulnerable, drunk woman with a son barely out of infancy was easy game.

They married, he moved in, he took control of the family accounts, but he was not allowed to touch my inheritance and trust-fund, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that, else I know he would have drained both accounts dry to spite me. He hated me, you see, he saw me as a threat, so when the daughter he had adopted with his previous wife came to live with us and we became closer than true blood siblings, he was furious.

We became each others shadows, even though I'm four years older than her. Raven even moved into my room and we shared until we were too old, and even then we spent every minute together, me trying to get her interested in chess and science, trying to teach her even as she resisted. For two people so different we were incredibly similar, not least because we were both mutants. We instinctively knew we had to hide our talents from our parents and from everyone else, but when she confessed to me that she was different and showed me what she could do, it was…a relief.

The night we sat together in my room and showed off our abilities was the happiest day of my life to date. I was nine, she was five. She turned into me and I talked to her without moving my lips. After that, we used to play games with our parents. She would pretend to be me and they never knew any different, whereas I could talk to her silently, and as I grew older and stronger, I could communicate over distances, sense where she was, what she was feeling.

We were two lonely children with only each other. The school we went to was a private one, and while I was happy with my lessons and books, Raven tried, and failed, to fit in. It's funny, isn't it, that in a school of rich children it was the wealthiest ones, not the poorest, who were the outcasts.

Being four years older than Raven, I saw it as my duty to protect her. I'm quite aware of my smaller than average stature, and as a child, I was a good head shorter than most boys my age, but that didn't stop me getting it fights when I saw Raven being picked on. I never fought for myself with anything other than words, for my mind has always been my sharpest weapon, but when it came to Raven I acted on male instinct.

Of course, I got the holy hell beaten out of me regularly until one day my step-father saw my injuries and put me into a boxing class, telling me that it was time I acted like a real boy. He was disgusted that I preferred to keep my nose in a book than indulge in more appropriately male activities, but the boxing classes helped, though I would grudgingly never admit that he had proved useful.

After a few weeks of lessons, I saw boys much older than Raven pushing her around and tapped the biggest one on the shoulder. He was head and shoulders bigger than me, and laughed when I put my fists up. He laughed right until I broke his nose, and after that, nobody bothered us.

We had a chauffer to ferry us to and from school. If we wanted to go anywhere, he would drive us. We had maids to clean up our mess, chefs to cook our meals, private tutors to teach us what our school didn't. Raven vented her frustrations in gymnastics; I committed myself to my studies and to strengthening my telepathy.

So, there you have it. I'm sickeningly rich, but my life was far from perfect.

When we were children, Raven and I used to pretend to be working class whereas working class children pretended to be rich. I'm grateful for all the advantages wealth has given me, don't get me wrong, if I wasn't wealthy I wouldn't have had such a good education, and I've never known what it means to struggle financially. But if someone told me that I had a choice between being poor but loved, part of a close family, or rich and lonely, I'd choose the former.

The only bearable part of my childhood was Raven. We're infinitely different as people but hopelessly dependant on each other, so when I told her I was moving to England to go to university, she cried and refused to let me go, screaming at me for leaving her behind, until I, overcome with guilt, promised that when she finished school she could move to England herself, and she did last year. Until she followed me here I spent every holiday back in New York and she visited me regularly.

So, you see, pain in arse though she can be, Raven is a part of me. We're a package deal, buy one get one free."

x.x.x

By the time Charles finished talking, Erik was so absorbed in his story that he barely noticed until Charles raised a single eyebrow in an expression Erik was becoming familiar with.

"That's…I don't know what to say. But thank you for sharing that with me." Erik said, reaching to cover Charles' hand with his own. They still sat at the table, empty plates stacked to one side.

"I didn't intend to talk for so long, really. You must have been bored senseless." Charles blushed.

"Bored? Not even remotely. You're fascinating, Charles." He said with persuading sincerity.

"You don't think I'm an ungrateful, pompous arse?" Charles asked, only half joking.

"I think you're anything but. I'm not going to lie, I always held rich people in contempt, thinking how easy they had it, scorning them whenever they complained, presuming that they had nothing to complain about, that they were narrow-minded fools. But really, I was the narrow-minded fool. Though I lost my family in the war, what precious memories I do have of them are the most valuable things I own, because I loved my family, and they loved me. Some days we had nothing, no food and only a candle for light, but love sustained us." Erik said, smiling sentimentally.

"I can't imagine how difficult it was for you when you lost them." Charles murmured, twining his fingers with Erik's.

"I can't describe the agony. It was like having a part of me torn out, like my heart had been ripped bloody and still-beating from my chest." A pained expression clouded Erik's features. "But you know, you said that you lacked for the love of your family, but you didn't. You had Raven. That you two were, are still, so close, is a blessing. You may not be related by blood but you have a stronger bond than any siblings I've ever met."

"You're right." Charles smiled. "I think without Raven, I would have grown up to be a very different person indeed."

"You should forgive her."

"Forgive her?"

"For the other night. I know feuding siblings when I see them."

Charles sighed. "I know. You're right. Give me a moment."

Raising his fingers to his temple, he closed he eyes and exhaled a long breath. Accessing the link between his mind and Raven's, he lowered the wall he'd put between them, a warmth spreading through his body as he did at the familiarity of Raven's conscience of the fringes of his own. Immediately, an exasperated _Finally! _sounded loud in his head.

_Hello little sister. _He said to her.

_Hello yourself. Took you long enough. How am I supposed to apologise when you shut me out?_

_With a telephone. _

_This is as good as any telephone, and I assumed that since you put me on hold for so long that using an actual phone would just result in you ignoring me. Figured I'd wait until you stopped throwing a tantrum._

_I was not throwing a tantrum, Raven, I was understandably annoyed at you._

_Yeah, well, I'm sorry, alright? Don't make me come over there with chocolate cake and a copy of Wuthering Heights. I will force feed you and read to you until you forgive me. _She threatened playfully.

Charles' chuckle was both vocal and mental, both Erik and Raven hearing it. Erik smiled, realising the mental conversation with his sister was going well.

_Consider yourself forgiven, but I'll hold you to that chocolate cake, and in case you forgot, the copy of Wuthering Heights you have is mine._

_Is not._

_Is too. Check the lower left corner of the back cover. _

_Fine! I've got it on the shelf and… _Her pause indicated she was busy. _Property of CFX? Really, Charles? Were you so worried the other boys at school would steal it for themselves, because Wuthering Heights was so hip at the time?_

_Shut up, Raven. I never took it to school, anyway. I received battering's often enough for defending you without adding my penchant for old romance novels into the mix. _

Raven giggled. _You're a great big brother, you know? Then, and now. I'll never forget the day you broke Peter Jeffrey's nose for as long as I live. You were my schoolyard hero._

_And you were the pain in my arse who shifted into my image when you were up to no good and didn't want the blame if you got caught._

_Gotta admit, I was smart. _

_Yes, Raven, I have to admit, you always were. _Charles said fondly. _Now, I have company, so…_

_It's Erik, isn't it? God, Charles, you can't keep me in the dark like this. I know you're into him, and he's into you. I demand details._

_You and Angel both._

_Well then, this calls for a girly night._

_I'm not a girl, Raven._

_No, but you're my gay older brother who turns into a girl when in the presence of his two favourite females. _

_Oh, you are a nasty thing. _Charles laughed. _I'll be in touch. Stay safe, little sister._

He opened his eyes to see Erik watching him with an obvious interest.

"All is forgiven." He announced. "I should have known that a day would come when Raven and I fought over a boy."

"I'm not a boy." Erik said indignantly, sparking laughter from Charles.

"No, you most certainly are not." He mused, stretching like a cat. "God, these chairs get uncomfortable. Sofa?" He suggested, and the two men moved to the loveseat.

Automatically, Erik lifted his arm to allow Charles to lean against him, his head on his chest, Erik's arm wrapped about his shoulders, as though they had been behaving as such for years, not days, relaxing with the familiarity of long-term lovers.

"I'm glad you shared that with me, Charles." Erik said softly. Charles shifted to look up at Erik, the angle making his eyes seem even larger.

"I'm glad you listened."

"I like you, Charles, I like you an awful lot for somebody I didn't know a week ago." Erik began assiduously.

"I like you a lot, too, Erik." Charles breathed, his heart in his eyes.

"It's funny, isn't it, how comfortable we already are with each other? This closeness, this ease with which we can be with one another. I know we've only just met, but I feel like I've known you my whole life."

"The feeling is mutual, my friend." Charles agreed, honestly meaning it. In the three days he had known Erik, it was as if he had discovered the missing part of himself. He had hoped Erik felt the same way and was gratified to find that he did.

"Even so, we took things too fast." Erik continued, and Charles felt his heart sink. Oh no. This was the part where Erik said he just wanted to be friends, that it was fun, but _so long, farewell_. Charles sat up quickly, fixing Erik with pleading eyes.

"Erik, I know what you're going to say, so don't. If you don't want me like that – "

"What? Charles, no." Erik interrupted, genuinely surprised that Charles thought he was implying that he wanted to distance himself from him. "I mean that we rushed into a physical relationship before we knew each other at all. Granted, the physical attraction I had to you was overwhelming and I probably couldn't have resisted it if I had tried, but I want to know you, Charles, I want to know every little part of you. I want this to be more than sex."

_Oh…_ Charles thought, his heart swelling fit to burst in his chest. Erik _really _liked him.

"You do?" He breathed.

"Yes, I do." Erik smiled gently. "I think we could be good together, I really do. I think we could be more than drunken blow jobs and kissing on my desk."

"I wasn't drunk." Charles retorted, but they laughed, Erik reaching out and brushing a lock of Charles' hair from his face. "I think we could be more, too."

"So, Charles Xavier, would you do me the honour of going on a date with me?" Erik asked with a wide smile, hand cupping Charles' face.

"I would love to, Erik Lensherr." Charles agreed, both men leaning in at the same time, lips connecting in the middle in a sweet kiss, so different to their earlier hurried kisses full of sexual frustration.

_You're a complicated man, Erik Lensherr. How can you be so many different people? A perfect professor, a sexual deviant, a sweet man requesting to court me… _Charles asked mentally as the kiss lasted.

_A single-faceted personality is a boring one, don't you think? I'm enjoying discovering the aspects of yours. _Erik replied as he slipped his tongue into Charles' mouth.

_So, are we taking this slowly then? Because I was rather hoping to hold you to your earlier threats. _Charles confessed, Erik pushing him back on the couch in response, body covering his, one hand sliding into his hair as the other gripped his hip.

_Slow__ly but surely. It will kill me, I'm sure. I can barely restrain myself from tearing your clothes off right now, but if you promise not to play games with me in front of my class, I think I can manage. _Charles moaned softly when Erik nipped and licked at his ear lobe. _But if you keep making sounds like that, I can't promise anything. _

_If you keep doing what you're doing, neither can I. _Charles' mental voice came out in a gasp.

Leaning up to look down at Charles, Erik smiled and rubbed a thumb over his cheekbone.

"I just can't resist you at all, Charles. You're just so…" Charles licked over his lower lip subconsciously, "tempting." Erik groaned when he saw that tongue.

Charles lay looking too thoroughly debauched for someone who had merely been kissed. His hair was ruffled, his clothes rumpled, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright and red lips glistening and swollen. It was a beautiful image that Erik committed to memory.

But he had sworn to himself that he would do right by Charles. He had promised himself that he would date him properly, slow things down and get to know him better before rushing back into bed with him. Given that they were both unable to keep their hands off one another, it would prove to be a difficult task.

"I have a challenge for you, Charles, for both of us, really." Erik said as they shifted on the couch so that they lay on their sides, Erik behind Charles, effectively spooning him, an arm wrapped around his middle and lips by his ear.

"I'm always willing to take on a new challenge."

"We have to limit our physical contact to kissing only for one month."

Charles seemed alarmed at the prospect. "We can't do anything but kiss for a _whole month_?" He gasped, appalled at the idea. He could have quite easily done so if they hadn't already experienced each other in bed, if he hadn't learnt about Erik's dominant nature and sexual kinks. But he _had_ experienced him, he _did_ know, and burdened with that knowledge, how could he resist him?

"Yes, one whole month, a month in which I cannot threaten you with public indecency as punishment and you cannot send mental visuals of us in compromising positions to me at any time, especially when I am in front of a class of impressionable young minds. Do you accept my challenge, Charles Xavier?"

Groaning forlornly, Charles nodded. "I accept your challenge, Professor Lensherr."

"Then let the games begin." Erik grinned into the back of Charles' head, letting his lips brush along the sensitive strip of skin above his collar.

"That's not fair. Kissing is far too arousing when applied correctly. This is going to be torture." Charles complained, shivering at Erik's touch.

"Can't step up to the challenge? Do you think you will fail, Charles? Are you quitting?" Erik teased, and Charles bristled.

"I do not quit, and I never fail." He huffed, yelping as Erik dragged him underneath him again and popped open the top buttons of his shirt, kissing his neck. "Erik, that's not fair."

"I'm teaching you self-restraint." Erik smirked into his neck, and Charles willingly surrendered to his lips and his hands as they played by a familiar boxing rule: keep it above the belt.


	9. First Date

**A/N **Overwhelmingly aware that I am an awful person for updating so sporadically and irregularly. In truth, I'm just not feeling very inspired with this fic right now, so it may be a while before I update again. That said, it's just as likely I may update in a week, given how unpredictably the river of my creative juices flows. Well, here is what is likely the last chapter I'll be publishing this year. I hope you enjoy it, and please, do review, it truly does help kick the cogs of my imagination into gear.

Zephyr.

**Part Nine**

**First Date**

Busy days passed swiftly with so much to occupy themselves with. Erik's class remained a popular one and the rest of the faculty congratulated him on his success with the students, who had, behind his back, taken to calling him Professor Shark due to the wicked, toothy grin he'd flash at any student who had annoyed, angered or interrupted him, right before he'd come out with a criticism, insult or remark that would leave said student either humiliated or awfully uncomfortable.

Though Erik had started his time at Oxford with the intention of being the model professor, old habits slipped through and as he got to know his students, he relaxed the professor attitude and started behaving more like himself in lectures, bantering and even joking with the kids – for he did think of them as kids, all but one blue-eyed young man who always took the seat directly in front of the podium – who, despite his cruel streak that evidenced itself when he purposefully embarrassed them, really liked the German.

Every student in the room found physics interesting yet some had previously forced themselves through with their studies due to tedious teachers with poor imaginations. Erik made physics fun. He captivated the class with his in-depth but simplified to be widely understood explanations, his animated way of talking when he found a subject particularly interesting, his sheer passion for the subject.

He spent his days teaching and most of his free time with Charles. Even when they both intended to spend some time away from one another so as not to appear too clingy (both feared it, neither thought it of the other) they couldn't avoid one another when they lived in such close quarters. Charles would be in the kitchen making tea when Erik would come in to make coffee, thus ensuing a long debate about which was better that neither man ever won. Erik would be returning from a lecture at the same time Charles was leaving to go meet friends, and both would end up late for whatever they were doing when merely setting eyes on one another gave way to passionate making-out in the hallway.

For all his thirty years, Erik had never been quite as captivated by any individual as he was by Charles.

He had been in relationships, some short, some long, but never had they been with a man as remarkable as Charles. Charles, beautiful, innocent looking but dirty-minded Charles; chess playing, frumpy jumper wearing, tea drinking, early morning running Charles.

They took turns sleeping in each other's beds. Since his first night at Oxford Erik had not slept alone. He had intended to sleep in his own room by himself to avoid any temptation, but with Charles across the hall from him in proved impossible as his mind kept wandering back to him and refusing to allow him to sleep until there was a knock at his door. Without getting out of bed he had unlocked it to allow Charles in, hair ruffled adorably and wearing button-down pyjama's, to crawl into his bed and promise to behave himself, claiming insomnia. Neither would admit that their insomnia was due to being apart from the other.

They settled into an easy routine. They didn't always have time to eat breakfast or lunch together, but most evenings they had dinner together, with Erik either cooking or one of them choosing a restaurant. It was easiest for Charles to choose given that he knew Oxford better than Erik, but more often than not Erik refused to let him pay or even go Dutch, even though Charles had the wealth of his family in his pocket, Erik evidently was accustomed to taking the 'man' role in his relationships. It concerned Charles that he was quite clearly the one left wearing the skirt, but if anything, and he admitted this to Angel and Raven over drinks, he quite enjoyed being spoiled rotten by his German.

They didn't refer to one another as their 'boyfriend' yet. They were not even technically in a relationship: they were dating.

It was unlike any prior experience of dating Charles had ever had, to his knowledge, most people when dating did not spend every night in each others arms, did not bicker over what was for dinner, did not have the familiar patterns and habits of the other committed to memory due to spending copious amounts of time together. Erik argued that they were also friends and conveniently close ones at that, Charles kept it to himself that it was because he was falling in love with Erik like a heroine in one of his old romance novels.

Charles drunkenly admitted to Angel one night that he adored all the small things in his not-relationship with Erik. Like the way they settled into the same position on the sofa every time, either man with a book in hand, Erik idly playing with Charles' hair with his free hand in such a soothing way Charles often fell asleep in front of the fire. Or how he liked to watch Erik shave, knowing that after his morning run Erik would have just gotten out of bed to get ready and they would find themselves in the bathroom together.

He had even bought Erik a shower.

Not a shower, exactly, but a fixture that fastened to the bath faucets and could be attached to the wall, and voila, makeshift shower. Erik had almost teared up at the present.

Charles had more free time than Erik due to their schedules, and when he wasn't studying or writing papers, Charles spent time with his friends who had accused him of being anti-social, nobody but Raven and Angel knowing that he was dating Erik. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friends; only, he didn't know how to tell them and was concerned should the wrong people find out about him and Erik. He knew that it was against Erik's code of conduct to date a student and it could, he had told Charles in a light tone to try and make small of the matter, cause his contract to end and ruin his reputation.

Thus, they were careful when in public. The other teachers thought the fact Erik was more inclined to socialise with students (Charles' friends having become his own, in a way) was peculiar but put it down to his being close enough in age to them, after Hank had pointed out he was the same age as some of the students and found it easier to befriend them than the other teachers who were mostly middle-aged and older. By comparison to some lecturers thirty year old Erik was practically a child.

x.x.x

Their first date had occurred six days after meeting. Unlike the night they had met, the evening was a dry one, warm and clear-skied.

Charles chose the restaurant, a quiet French place that boasted the cities finest wine selection. It was a small establishment with room enough for up to 30 diners and as it was an early Tuesday evening there were only two other couples and a small group of females who eyed both men as they were shown to their seats, quite clearly discussing amongst themselves which man was most eligible. You didn't have to be a telepath to notice certain things.

"This is a very nice place, quiet too." Erik appreciated, sweeping his eyes over the room.

"Well, I know how much you value privacy. You really are rather anti-social, aren't you?"

Erik grinned at Charles. "Nonsense, I just keep a very select company."

Charles smiled warmly before they were interrupted by the waiter offering them menus and reciting the specials. The waiter was a tall, handsome young man with black hair and eyes, eyes that seemed sharp and cunning. After they greeted each other like old friends, Charles spoke to him in precisely accented, flawless French. Apparently, he was funny in any language, as the waiter broke into wide smiles and laughter, slapping Charles on the back and responding with a funny of his own to make Charles chuckle humorously. Once the waiter left, Erik eyed Charles curiously.

"Do you know him?" He asked with as casual an air as he could muster, nibbling at a breadstick.

"Well, sort of. Yes." Charles' blush was visible even by the weak candle light.

"Sort of yes?" Erik asked less casually.

"We dated a little. But it was ages ago." Charles waved his hand as if by doing so he could disperse all conversation on the matter of Charles and the attractive Frenchman like it was some bad odour.

"Oh. I see." Erik said quietly, taking an instant disliking to the waiter, and, therefore, the restaurant. Ever empathic Charles noticed Erik's sudden turn in attitude and reached across the table for his hand, uncaring of the loud whispers from the table of women that ensued upon them seeing the intimate action.

"It was months ago and it was awful. He was ashamed of me because he was ashamed of himself. Philip is very much a closet gay." He said reassuringly, rubbing a thumb over Erik's tense hand, which relaxed a little. "You're rather…insecure, aren't you?"

"Insecure? Me? No. What makes you think that?" Erik tried, and failed, to cover his embarrassment with self-deprecating humour, receiving a single arched brow from Charles in response. "So, are we having wine?"

"Of course. I was thinking this one," he tapped a finger against a long French sentence that doubled as a wine name on the wines list, "it is by far the best red they have."

Talk of former flames and insecurities shelved, they ordered wine and food, Erik glaring daggers at Philip as he took their orders, and spent the rest of the evening trying forkfuls of one another's dishes and drinking their way through two bottles of wine until they were both undeniably a little drunk. Drunk enough to quite forget that they were not alone in the restaurant and that their fellow diners likely had never seen a gay couple out in the open. For all the revolution of the sixties, people were still horrifically narrow-minded in regards to sexuality.

If you were fucking your way around Woodstock and spreading all manner of nasty STDs it was all well and good: that was free love. But if you were otherwise involved with a member of the same sex, well, God Save the Queen and all her righteous citizens.

In his inebriated state, Charles did not control the mental link he maintained with Erik's mind as tightly as he should. He allowed his hold over it to loosen somewhat, and by doing so, Erik's surface emotions trickled into the corners of Charles' conscience, from his overpowering hatred for Philip (Charles made a note to self: Erik is insecure _and _possessive) to his satisfaction at the food, his annoyance at a shred of something caught in his back molars (another note to self: buy dental floss) to one final, overwhelming feeling that Charles could barely bring himself to acknowledge.

It was faint, barely-there, as if it were a fledgling emotion finding its wings to soar to its full potential. Charles sensed that it was being restrained for some reason, and while Erik was occupied with discussing his better students, Charles silently apologised for breaking his promise and let just a tiny fragment of his own conscience inside of Erik's mind, a tendril of himself small enough to go undetected by someone without full awareness, whose mind was dulled by alcohol.

He found what he was looking for easily. Around the fledgling feeling was wrapped another, one stronger, more demanding, keeping it back, keeping it from spreading its wings.

The constricting chains bound securely around Erik's ability to give himself fully to Charles, to accept love and give love in return, was a deep-rooted sense of self-loathing.

The fledgling emotion was his love for Charles, and that alone had Charles' eyes tearing up so much so that he had to fake a coughing fit to cover them up, but the fact that it was being refused its natural ability to grow and be experienced at full capacity, that had him truly wanting to cry. Erik was denying himself love because he had long ago, it seemed, deemed himself unworthy of it, from himself and from others.

Charles excused himself to the bathroom and locked himself inside, clutching at the porcelain basin to steady himself, body broken, head hanging low as tears he could no longer restrain dripped steadily into the sink, clinging to his lashes like droplets of springtime dew and sliding down his cheeks. A sob shuddered through him, his own feelings of sadness at what he had found mingled with the resounding echo of Erik's own bitter self-hatred, his unbearably low self worth, made for a potent potion of negative emotions.

He knew precious little about Erik's past: he refused to talk about it except for the odd comment relating to his _mama _or a snippet about his life in Germany, and even that was impersonal and only his recent history.

What he did know was that Erik lost everyone and everything in the war, and what he didn't have to be told was that war changes a person, and it had quite clearly done immense damage to Erik's self esteem. It had, quite literally, forced him to form a barrier around his heart.

Charles didn't know what to do.

Clearly, Erik _was _capable of love – he was not a sociopath, which was a relief. But he was refusing himself both acceptance of Charles' feelings for him and his own feelings for Charles, feelings that were far greater than Charles had suspected. Sure, they liked each other an awful lot, but what he had felt inside Erik's mind was the beginning formation of absolute love.

That made Charles smile. Erik could love him, given time, but first he would have to learn to accept that he deserved love.

Charles resolved to do everything he could to help Erik overcome whatever it was that was forcing him to shackle down natures most beautiful gift to man. He resolved to learn everything about Erik, to make him trust him enough to talk openly about his past so that he could find out why he had such fierce determination to refuse himself love. And, with that knowledge, he would break the shackles from his heart.

Charles was nothing if not determined, stubborn and clever. He would do it, and he would do it without violating his promise again.

He splashed cold water on his face and dried it off, hoping the weak light would disguise the fact he had been crying – crying, God, how sexy was _that_ on a first date?

x.x.x

Following dinner, they walked arm in arm through the streets back to the University, slightly more sober than they had been due to the exercise and fresh air.

"How does England compare with Germany, then?" Charles asked, venturing cautiously into the conversation he wanted to have with Erik.

"It is different, but only slightly. The buildings have a different look about them, but everything is all very much the same. Shops, parks, bars, fashion…everything is the same, and yet everything is different."

"So, say those two people over there were conversing in German, would you be able to tell the difference between them and an Englishman?"

"I should think so. Have you heard the English speaking German? I can barely comprehend a word of it." Erik said jokingly. "But what you are asking is if people differ from one country to the next. You could answer that yourself, as an American on foreign soil. You know the answer."

"I suppose I do. I have to say, the British differ vastly from Americans. But it is as you said: everything is the same and yet everything is different."

"Do you think we are the same, whatever country we hail from?" Erik asked, and Charles knew that his hopes of talking about Erik's past could well be dashed for the evening. He knew full well that once Erik started on about 'their kind' he wouldn't stop.

"I think we are a people like any other. Like humans, we, whatever we are, are influenced by the society we grow up in, and society differs from country to country."

"Are you still caught up on if we are a new species or not?"

Sighing, Charles shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands emphatically. "We can't determine the truth of it without understanding our origins first. Who knows who the first being with a mutation was, when they were born, if they still live or how old they are? We are of an age, part of the same generation, and all others like us I have met have been close in age to me or younger. I should like to meet an older mutant and see what I could learn from them. I should also like to discover a secret book full of explanations to every question I have ever asked myself in regards to 'our kind' as you call us, but it is not going to happen."

"What of our DNA? Surely is it different to humans?"

"Yes, it is. I tested mine and Raven's against human samples and there is no arguing that we differ vastly from humans, and from each other. It seems to me that each person's mutation is unique and if I were to test every mutated person's DNA against each other, there would not be a single match, so how can we be a whole, new species when we do not share the same blood? If anything, each and every mutant would be a species unto himself."

"But we are not human."

"No, Erik, as far as our genetics are concerned we are not."

"You don't like it, do you?" Erik stopped walked and cocked his head at Charles. "I can see it all over your face. You hate knowing that you aren't human, and every time I bring it up, you get all…wound up." He gesticulated with nonsensical hand motions.

"I do not hate anything." Charles refuted.

"Every time the subject of our humanity is – "

"Being human has nothing to do with our humanity. We are as human as any other man walking these streets but for the talents we have."

"And for the fact we are not human at all."

"Damn it, Erik! Why are you so hell-bent on distancing yourself as far as possible from any and all humans? You talk of them with disdain, as if they are insects to you! We may be different, Erik, we may not even share the same genetics as them, but we are human no matter what I see when I look into a microscope. We are human because we still possess our humanity, because we live, laugh, love, hate, get sad and angry and jealous, that is why we are human!" By the end of his impassioned rant, Charles was shouting loudly. Erik stared at him in shock.

"You know we aren't human. You know that our very genetic makeup is inhuman, and yet you are so desperate to be human that you deny everything you know in favour of…of what? What is it that you are so scared of, Charles? Being different?"

"I am not scared of anything, least of all being different. I have been different my whole life and it has never frightened me. What I'm afraid of is your incessant obsession with proving that you are not human, an obsession that clearly stems from your hatred of humans, but where that stems from, I can't say, because you refuse to talk to me."

"We met less than a week ago, Charles. You can't expect me to tell you every single thing about me in so short a space of time." Erik wondered how and when their date had turned into a heated argument. They stood facing each other on an empty road, the small space that separated them seeming like an endless precipice. From walking arm in arm only minute before to shouting at each other in public, Erik once again wondered how he always managed to do such things.

Charles, however, felt the astounding force of his own stupidity slap him in the face.

Six days. He had known Erik for six days and already they were arguing. Six days was not time enough to know a man, especially one as complicated as Erik, and six days was arguably not even long enough to gain someone's trust, the first inevitable step to discovering what made that person tick.

He had rushed in headfirst with no consideration, his excitement at finding the beginning foundations of love in Erik's mind fuelling him to push him harder.

Evidently, he had pushed too hard.

"Please forgive me, my friend, I was out of line. Of course I don't expect you to tell me everything, of course it is too soon. I fear I got carried away in my enthusiasm." Charles apologised humbly, eyes averted, head down, shuffling awkwardly.

A soft touch to his chin made him look up and into Erik's smiling grey-green eyes. Though his lips were decidedly unsmiling, his eyes were alive, bright and beautiful.

"Let's just put this behind us, shall we? This is our first date, and I really rather hoped it would have a more pleasant end than this." Erik said, placing a chaste kiss to Charles' lips.

That brief press of lips spoke volumes, communicating to Charles all that Erik could not say. They were outside, in public, even if there wasn't a single person in sight of them, and yet Erik had displayed his affection to Charles boldly in the open.

Perhaps there was hope for them yet.


End file.
